POLLY WIGGLES 



AND SOME OTHERS 



EDNA CLARK DAVIS 











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POLLY WIGGLES 
AND SOME OTHERS 







Each girl proudly pinned a badge on her dress 

Piuje 85. 




























POLLY WIGGLES 

AND SOME OTHERS 


BY 

EDNA CLARK DAVIS 

>\ 


ILLUSTRATED BY 
JULIA GREENE 



BOSTON 

LOTHROP LEE & SHEPARD CO. 















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Copyright, 1927, 

By Lothrop, Lee and Shepard Co. 
All Rights Reserved 
Polly Wiggles and Some Others 


*' ** « 
’• V 



PRINTED IN IT. S. A. 


NORWOOD PRESS 

BERWICK & SMITH CO. 

NORWOOD, MASS. 




SEP20’2] ©C1A1004250 





CONTENTS 


C JTAI^TER PAGE 

1. The Mystery Starts .n 

2. An Exciting Letter . . . . .31 

3. The Girls’ Secret.45 

4. Cubby’s Escapade.-59 

5. The Mystic-Star Girls.76 

6. Polly Wiggles,—Cook.93 

7. Socks and Sponge Cake.111 

8. Prisoners at the Bar.132 

9. At THE Rustic Tea-Shop.152 

10. Friday Night.174 

11. At THE Twin Oak-Tree.188 

12. A Cooking-Lesson.200 

13. Gone!.214 

14. The Mystery Deepens.230 

15. The Progressive Dinner.249 

16. Leap-frog ..268 

17. On THE Way TO THE Pirate’s Den . . 278 

18. Hidden Treasure.291 

s 










ILLUSTRATIONS 

Each girl proudly pinned a badge on her dress 

(Page 85). Frontispiece 

FACING 

PAGE 

“Turkle, this is Marietta”.48 

Donald kilted Mandy’s blue-checked apron 

about his waist and set to work with a will 108 

“That is my fourth caramel pudding” . . .154 

“O—oh, I see him,—the Pirate!” .... 192 

Something shiny and green gave one leap across 

the table.272 


7 




r 





POLLY WIGGLES 
AND SOME OTHERS 






% 



POLLY WIGGLES AND 
SOME OTHERS 


CHAPTER ONE 


THE MYSTERY STARTS 



HE Lilacs” was in summer dress. 
Green-and-white awnings shaded 
the windows, cretonne-cushioned 


wicker-chairs were scattered in sociable 
groups about the broad veranda, while flower- 
boxes of scarlet geraniums and trailing vines 
added a brilliant touch of color. 

It was a delightful place to spend the sum¬ 
mer, and the Eatons always enjoyed every mo¬ 
ment of their stay with Grandmother and 
Grandfather Carr at their attractive country 
home in Meadowbrook. There were many rea¬ 
sons why they all eagerly anticipated these vis¬ 
its. Dr. Eaton found The Lilacs a pleasant and 


12 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

convenient place to be during the warm 
months, as it was only a half-hour’s ride from 
his city office; and Mrs. Eaton looked forward 
with pleasure to the golden summer days spent 
with her parents and her younger sister. As for 
the three little girls, they discovered that the 
vacation spent with their grandparents and 
Aunt Elsie, skipped by only too quickly. 

Now their really-truly names were Jean¬ 
nette, Elizabeth, and Evelyn, but, to tell the 
truth, they were nearly always nicknamed, and 
this is the reason why. They often played that 
they were the three bears, and because four- 
year-old Evelyn was the wee little cubby bear, 
she was called “Cubby” as a matter of course. 
Then, as she had trouble pronouncing the long 
name “Jeannette,” she shortened the big bear’s 
name to “Jet,” and every one soon followed 
her example. 

As for the harum-scarum middle-sized bear, 
who could remember to call her by the stately 
name of Elizabeth, when she was always in 
mischief and out again? It was Grandfather 
Carr who gave her the nickname of “Polly 


THE MYSTERY STARTS 13 

Wiggles.” “It’s because she’s such a lively lit¬ 
tle polliwog that she’s always on the wiggle,” 
he used to tease as he pulled the short snarly 
black curls which were as unlike Jeannette’s 
long smooth ones as could be. 

It was no wonder that Polly Wiggles and 
her year-older sister had happy times galore, 
for not only were their cousins, Billy and Dick 
Gerard, near neighbors, but their three best 
friends were on the very same avenue. It was 
very pleasant to have Alice Maxfield living 
right in the next-door house at “Sweet Brier,” 
for she and Elizabeth had been chums since 
their baby days. Then there was Kitty Lane, 
whose parents owned the big white house on 
the corner, and Jeannette’s best friend, Marion 
West. She and her brother, Hugh, visited their 
grandparents every season, and their father 
was minister of the church the Eatons at¬ 
tended in the city. 

And what a popular place The Lilacs 
seemed to be! Billy, Dick, and Hugh dashed 
in at all hours of the day, usually accompanied 
by blond Allan Harrison, Gabriel Le Clare, 


14 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

and Donald MacAllister, who, although a 
newcomer in Meadowbrook, was liked by 
every one. 

His mother had been a childhood friend of 
Mrs. Eaton’s, and after many years abroad, 
she had returned to open her beautiful home, 
“White Birches,” which was right across the 
way. It was the handsomest estate in the town, 
and the girls had called it “The Enchanted 
Palace” in their games of make-believe, until 
it had acquired a charm and glamour all its 
own. They had pretended that the place would 
not rouse to life until a dark-eyed Prince 
Charming on his white charger drank from 
the crystal waters of Willow Lake, which 
nestled amid its green lawns. So it had seemed 
almost too good to be true when brown-eyed 
Donald, on his white pony, had all unknow¬ 
ingly carried out their imaginative fancy. Of 
course none of the boys knew of this, or Don¬ 
ald would have been teased unmercifully, but 
the girls were thrilled at the way their “let’s 
pretend” had come true. ■ 

As for Mrs. MacAllister, she was a great 


THE MYSTERY STARTS 15 

favorite with all the young people, and the 
girls often called her their Fairy Godmother. 
At the May-Day Frolic in the spring, when 
Wiggles had been Queen and Allan Harrison, 
King, with the others as Courtiers and Maids 
of Honor, she had given them a delightful sur¬ 
prise that they would always remember. 

One afternoon in early summer Mrs. Eaton 
was not at all astonished when she looked up 
from the rockery over which she was bending, 
and saw Billy, Dick, and Hugh come racing 
up the lilac-bordered path. 

“Where are the girls?” they demanded in 
chorus as Aunt Elsie waved a smudgy hand in 
welcome, and patted Boots, her beautiful Per¬ 
sian cat, that was purring loudly beside her. 

Over across the garden the honeysuckle 
vines parted cautiously, and a rosy face 
framed by crinkly black curls peeped out, and 
then disappeared abruptly behind the leafy 
screen, for in the arbor four of the girls had 
been having an interesting conversation. 

“Ssh,” hissed Polly Wiggles. “Not another 
word about our secret, for the boys are here.” 


16 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

Jeannette turned to glance over her sister’s 
shoulder. “We’ll have to be dreadfully careful 
not to let them guess,” she whispered with a 
warning glance at blonde Alice, who nodded 
agreement as she peered out in time to see 
Allan and Gabriel come dashing down the 
avenue. 

“I know if Hugh discovers we have a se¬ 
cret, he’ll make himself a regular nuisance,” 
declared Marion, raising a vivid face from 
the doll’s petticoat she was hemming, and 
shaking a glowing mass of red hair out of her 
way. “You can’t imagine how he’ll tease. 
Brothers are terribly curious.” 

“So are cousins, and we think Billy and 
Dick are the worst teases of all,” chorused 
Polly Wiggles and Jeannette. 

Alice jumped to her feet and shook out her 
dress. “It’s such a lovely secret that I wish 
Kitty could have been here sooner, so as to 
have talked it over with us,” she said regret¬ 
fully. 

“Here comes Kitty now. O goody!” cried 
Polly Wiggles, darting out to wave gay greet- 


THE MYSTERY STARTS 17 

ings to the boys and to pounce on the brown¬ 
haired girl who had just entered the gate. The 
other girls followed more slowly, pausing to 
pat the beautiful white collie that came frisk¬ 
ing over the lawn at the heels of Mrs. Mac- 
Allister and her tall son. 

“Am I late for the powwow?” Donald in¬ 
quired as he perched himself on the edge of 
the rockery beside^Allan and gave him a 
friendly punch. 

“What is this powwow about, anyway?” 
Mrs. Eaton asked as she laid down her trowel. 

“Why, you see, now that vacation has 
started, we—that is, our May-Day crowd— 
are getting together to talk over summer 
plans,” auburn-haired Hugh explained with a 
smile. 

Mrs. MacAllister looked very much inter¬ 
ested. “What summer frolics are you plan¬ 
ning?” she inquired with the air of courteous 
attention which endeared her to them all. 

Polly Wiggles suddenly looked very seri¬ 
ous. “We haven’t made any plans as yet,” she 
sighed with a mournful shake of her head, 



II8 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“and do you know I am afraid this is going to 
be a very dull summer!” 

“Why, Polly Wiggles! What are you talk¬ 
ing about? I never heard you sound so— 
so—doleful before,” Donald exclaimed, look¬ 
ing in puzzled astonishment at his usually 
jolly little chum, while Billy pulled one of her 
crinkly curls, “to cheer her up.” “Please don’t 
suggest that my first summer here is going to 
be dull, when Pve been looking forward to it 
so much.” 

“I know what Wiggles means,” volunteered 
Gabriel with a flash of his black eyes. “She 
means that everything is going to seem very 
tame after all the fun we had at the Frolic.” 

Aunt Elsie gave an understanding nod, 
while Mrs. MacAllister looked suddenly 
thoughtful, and Polly Wiggles rumpled her 
curls until she looked like a small Shetland 
pony. “That’s it exactly. Nothing could ever 
be such fun as the May Frolic, with the parade 
and coronation, and the lovely supper-party 
afterward,” she explained as she jumped to her 
feet with an ominous sound of ripping. 



THE MYSTERY STJRTS 19 

“Oh, do look out,” warned Jeannette anx¬ 
iously as she examined the rent in her sister’s 
yellow dress. “That’s twice you’ve torn your 
dress this afternoon. You took a big piece out 
of it when we were in the arbor talking over 
our sec—” She broke off with a quick glance 
at the boys as Marion wigwagged alarmed sig¬ 
nals and Alice “sshed” her into silence. 

Billy swung round and surveyed her with 
accusing eyes. 

“Hm, yes. Jet has wild-looking curls instead 
of her usual smooth bell-ropes, Marion’s dress 
is grass-stained, while words fail to describe 
the state Polly Wiggles is in. Just look at this 
mop.” Dick held out a handful of snarly black 
curls as he spoke, snapping them back into 
place as if they had been on springs; while 
Billy turned his mischievous glance toward 
Alice, who fidgeted uneasily. 

“But, as usual, the Lady Alice has not a 
golden hair out of place. Her dress is crisp 
and clean, every eyelash is in position, and 
there’s not even a smudge on her white shoes,” 
Billy summed up quickly. “Now, ’fess up. 


20 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

young ladies, and tell us what you’re planning 
unbeknownst to us.” 

Wiggles clasped her hands over her mouth 
and looked up with dancing eyes. “Don’t you 
wish you knew?” she mumbled indistinctly 
through her fingers. “It’s a secret.” 

“A secret? And we’re not in it?” echoed 
Donald in dismay, his dark eyes laughing into 
the mischievous blue ones that peered up at 
him. “That’s not fair.” 

“It’s a secret for girls only,” Marion an¬ 
nounced calmly. 

“Tell me,” demanded Hugh eagerly. “You 
ought to tell me, ’cause I’m your brother. 
Honest, I won’t tell any one.” 

“Indeed you won’t,” sniffed Marion, re¬ 
pressing a smile at his disappointed air, “for 
you won’t get the chance. I’d as soon tell a 
town-crier as you. Why, you couldn’t keep 
a secret two minutes if Dick Gerard started 
teasing you.” 

“Then tell me. I’m as silent as a tombstone. 
Brute force could not unlock my lips. So whis¬ 
per in little Billy’s shell-like ear, and none 


THE MYSTERY STARTS 


21 


will.be the wiser,” wheedled Billy, cupping 
his ear with his hand and leaning toward her 
invitingly. 

“And none will be the wiser if I don’t do any 
whispering at all,” retorted Marion provok- 
ingly, laughing at Billy’s grieved air. “This 
is a secret for girls only, and even Kitty hasn’t 
heard it yet. But we’ll tell her as soon as you 
boys go home.” 

“Well, I like that.” Allan’s tone was rueful. 
“Say, did you hear that broad hint. Gay? I, 
for one, refuse to budge until our summer 
plans are talked over. In fact, after that re¬ 
mark I shall stay and stay-” 

“Until you are sent home,” put in Kitty 
with a laughing look at blond Allan. “I can’t 
say I blame you. I’m bursting with curiosity 
myself. Can’t one of you girls take me aside 
and whisper in my shell-like ear?” 

“Whispering’s not polite,” Dick an¬ 
nounced severely. 

“But when shall I know?” 

Donald turned to smile teasingly at the 
eager questioner. “Oh, not for a long time. 



22 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

Kitty-Cat,” he responded, “for Aunt Jean is 
having creamed chicken to-night, and it’s al¬ 
ways understood that I stay to dinner when 
they have my favorite dish. It will be a fine 
chance, too, for finding out about the secret.” 

“Oh, we’ll know long before then,” Billy 
assured him confidently. “Girls can’t keep a 
secret.” 

“Oh, can’t they?” retorted Alice wither- 
ingly, her black-fringed blue eyes flashing at 
this insult. “Well, you just wait and see. You 
may tease and tease-” 

“Aha, so we may? All right. Come right 
along up on the porch and we’ll start the teas¬ 
ing now. Don’t you want to come, too?” Billy 
turned about to confront the three amused 
ladies who were shaking with mirth. 

“Yes, do come,” urged Hugh, cordially, 
“and see us put the thumbscrews on yon fair 
damsels. We’ll pretend we’re a band of pi¬ 
rates-” 

“Pirates?” echoed Mrs. MacAllister, gaz¬ 
ing raptly at Hugh. “Yes, yes, go on-” 

“And we’re out to solve the mystery if it 





THE MYSTERY STARTS 


23 


takes all summer,” continued Donald, his eyes 
dancing at the idea. “We’ll never give up. 
Mysteries are always fascinating, don’t you 
think so?” 

“Sure. We wouldn’t have cared a bit about 
their silly secret if they hadn’t made such a 
mystery out of it,” Allan admitted frankly. 

Polly Wiggles gave a derisive sniff and 
started slowly toward the veranda. She paused 
long enough to announce casually, “I see 
Mandy has put a pitcher of root-beer on the 
table. Who wants some?” 

“Who doesn’t?” echoed the boys in chorus, 
making for the steps at a run. 

“I’ll rifle the cookie-jar,” called Dick, set¬ 
ting off across the lawn at a lope. “May I, 
Aunt Jean?” 

“Help yourself,” Mrs. Eaton responded 
with a wave of her trowel. 

Mrs. MacAllister jumped to her feet and 
tucked her arm through Aunt Elsie’s. “I must 
hurry home,” she said, “for an idea is simmer¬ 
ing in my mind that I am anxious to talk over 
with you both. I’ll take Elsie along with me 


24 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

now, and do try to come over later, Jean, and 
bring your mother.” 

“Yes, as soon as I clean up,” promised Mrs. 
Eaton, with a glance at her grubby hands as 
she continued her work. 

Up on the veranda Polly Wiggles was pour¬ 
ing the root-beer from the tinkling pitcher 
into tall green tumblers. “Make yourselves at 
home,” she said hospitably, with a wave of her 
hand toward the hammock into which Ga¬ 
briel, Allan, and Hugh hastily scrambled. 

“Thanks, I have already,” called Dick’s 
■merry voice as he opened the door with a bang. 
Holding a basket of chocolate cookies in one 
hand, and a crock of sugary doughnuts in the 
other, he paused before Marion and held out 
each in turn. “Mary Ann, I’m sorry I couldn’t 
find any ginger cookies,” he emphasized with 
a quick glance at her gorgeous hair. 

“Don’t you call me Mary Ann!” Marion 
flashed out as she helped herself liberally. 
“You seem to have found everything else in the 
pantry, so don’t apologize.” 


THE MYSTERY STARTS 25 

Dick placed the crock at her feet and sank 
down cross-legged beside it. “Mandy was up¬ 
stairs,” he explained with his mouth full, “and 
so I just naturally helped myself. Yum, these 
are bully.” 

Jeannette seated herself beside Alice with 
a flutter of rose-colored skirts. “I like your 
style of serving, Dick,” she remarked as 
Donald passed the crock to her. “Why didn’t 
you put them on a plate?” 

“Couldn’t be bothered. It’s only girls who 
make a fuss about dishes, with do-dabs of 
doilies on them, anyway. Say, is your secret 
about anything to eat?” 

Polly Wiggles smiled impishly. “Yes,” she 
admitted briefly, shooting a glance at Alice, 
who giggled. 

“Is it a taffy-pull?” inquired Donald, perch¬ 
ing himself on the railing. 

“No, it isn’t. We told you that you’d never 
guess,” Jeannette exclaimed. 

“It’s a picnic,” Gabriel put in positively. 
“Isn’t it, Woggsie?” 


26 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“You can guess all day, you can guess all night, 

But you’ll always be wrong, and you’ll never be 
right,” 

chanted Polly Wiggles with a mischievous 
smile dimpling her rosy cheeks. 

An hour later the boys agreed with her. 
They had suggested everything they could 
think of, and, as Alice joyously announced, 
not one was right. 

“In fact, we’re left,” Billy added gloomily, 
knitting his brows in thought. “For goodness’ 
sake, what’s the matter with Mandy?” 

No wonder he inquired, for down the hall, 
muttering to herself in an angry undertone, 
waddled fat Mandy, the colored cook who had 
been with the family for many years. With 
arms akimbo she paused in the doorway, the 
bandanna turban upon her head wildly askew, 
and nodded slowly several times as her eyes 
swept from the empty crock to the basket 
where only a few crumbs remained. “Jest as 
Ah s’picioned,” she stormed, shaking her head 
violently. “When Ah comes down to mah 
clean pantry and finds it looking as if a plague 


THE MYSTERY STARTS 


27 


of grasshoppahs had done broke their famine 
there, Ah doesn’t need to ask what two-legged 
grasshoppahs have been skirmishing around. 
No sah! Ah knows” She paused impressively 
and swept a lightning glance about the circle. 

“My, but you’re a regular detective, aren’t 
you, Mandy?” teased Billy in tones of deep 
admiration. He and Dick made Mandy’s life a 
torment by their raids on her pantry,—but she 
adored them both. 

“Yes sah. Ah is, and Ah don’t need no 
magnetizing-glass, like that detectif you’re 
always telling me about, to show me who left 
feet-prints on mah clean floor.” 

Dick’s head peeped out cautiously from be¬ 
hind Marion’s chair as Mandy paused for 
breath. “You’re not angry with me, are you, 
Mandy?” he wheedled with an infectious grin 
as he looked up into the stormy face above 
him. “You know 1 can’t resist your doughnuts. 
They—they tempt me past endurance,” he 
finished artfully. 

Mandy stooped for the empty crock, and to 
hide a pleased smile. Her pride as cook would 


28 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 


have been sadly disturbed if the cousins had 
failed to plunder the cookie-jar each time they 
were at The Lilacs. But when she looked up 
her dusky face was wrathy. “You’re a good- 
fer-nothing scalawag,” she snorted as she 
turned to go. At the doorway she looked back. 
“And, honey,” she added impressively, with a 
complete change of tone, “Ah’s going to make 
apple turnovers with powdered sugah on top 
to-morrow.” 

“We’ll all be over,” chorused the boys with 
a long-drawn “Ahh” of delight that tickled 
Mandy’s vanity immensely. 

“But undahstand,” she declared with a sol¬ 
emn shake of her turban, “Ah don’t want no 
flock of buzzards like you-all to swoop down 
on baking-day and pester the daylights out of 
me. Ah might let Prince Donald have one —” 
She paused with a beaming smile at Donald, 
and Billy gave an anguished howl. 

“Favoritism, favoritism,” he objected stren¬ 
uously. “Don must carry a rabbit’s foot to be 
so lucky. Certainly, Mandy, you won’t slight 



THE MYSTERY STARTS 


29 


your two little helpers who run errands and 
tote coal-” 

“And nibble mah fresh-baked pies as if 
they was mice,” sniffed Mandy. 

“It’s tough luck, boys,” smiled Donald as he 
jumped down from the rail, “but I’ll tell you 
how they taste, so cheer up. You may enjoy 
the smell of sugar and spice and everything 
nice—” He broke off abruptly as something 
bright and shining whizzed through the air 
from the garden shrubbery and buried itself 
with a w-whirr in the lowest porch-step. 

The boys jumped up with startled cries, the 
girls screamed, and Mandy let out a yell that 
brought James, the chauffeur, running, while 
Mrs. Eaton hurried up the path. 

“Oh, what’s the matter?” called Grand¬ 
mother Carr in a scared voice as she hurried 
out on the porch, with Cubby trotting at her 
heels. “Wiggles, Jet, girls,—are you all 
right?” 

“Oh, yes,” quavered the girls together, and 
then, as Wiggles pointed mutely with a shak- 



30 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

ing finger, her grandmother glanced down 
with startled eyes. 

It was no wonder she looked dumfounded, 
for there, quivering in the sunlight, with its 
point embedded in the wood, was a long 
curved knife. Its blade was thrust through a 
square of brilliant red paper. 


CHAPTER TWO 

AN EXCITING LETTER 



HAT—” began Grandmother 
Carr uncertainly. 

“Oh, oh, oh, what can it be?” 
gasped Jeannette, clasping Polly Wiggles’ 
arm so tightly that her sister winced. Marion, 
Alice, and Kitty gazed open-mouthed at the 
quivering knife, too startled to do more than 
stare. 

“Murdah, robbers, fire, thieves!” screeched 
Mandy, waddling about, distractedly hugging 
the empty doughnut crock to her bosom. “Ah 
heard a dog howl this mawning, and it means 
we’re all going to be murdered in our beds, 
sure as fate.” 

“Nonsense.” Billy’s tone was very decided, 
as with the other boys he hurried back from 
where they had been searching the shrubbery 
to see if chance intruders were about. 


31 


32 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“There’s not a sign of any one, and yet it 
couldn’t have been thrown without hands,’’ 
Donald volunteered as he leaned over to pick 
up the knife which he handed to Billy. 

“Cheer up, Mandy. You don’t need to 

* 

worry yet, anyway,’’ put in Dick with a 
chuckle. “For none of us is in his bed, so we 
must be safe. But all joking aside,—^what does 
it mean?” 

No one answered, for they all were in the 
dark as much as he, and so they crowded about 
eagerly as Billy exhibited the knife, which in 
itself was unusual. 

Grandmother Carr bent and examined it 
with fascinated wonder. 

“I never saw a curved knife like this before. 
Did you, Jean?” she inquired of Mrs. Eaton, 
putting on her glasses to inspect it more 
closely. 

Mrs. Eaton looked much perplexed. “I feel 
as if I were living in the midst of a thrilling 
movie,” she confessed comically. “To have 
mysterious knives hurled at random is most 
exciting in the middle of a peaceful summer 


AN EXCITING LETTER 


33 

afternoon. Do examine that wicked-looking 
scarlet envelope, Billy, and see if there’s any 
explanation inside. The paper itself looks 
gruesome.” 

“Maybe it’s an ad,” suggested Allan 
thoughtfully. “It would be a pretty clever way 
to advertise, well—cutlery, for instance,” he 
finished, turning to glance at the others. 

But it wasn’t an ad, and as Billy undid the 
splotch of black sealing-wax that fastened the 
scarlet envelope, the others gazed with mys¬ 
tified eyes at the blood-red paper inside, the 
top of which was decorated with a crudely- 
drawn skull and cross-bones, while a black- 
sailed ship was sketched in the lower left-hand 
corner. 

Billy gave a startled gasp, and Dick, who 
was peering with round-eyed amazement over 
his brother’s shoulder, pursed up his lips in a 
whistle of astonishment. 

“Just listen to this,” he cried eagerly, “and 
see if you can solve the mystery. It’s some kind 
of directions, and it would take a master mind 
to decipher the meaning.” 


34 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

And as the others resumed their seats and 
settled themselves to listen, the boys chanted 
together: 

“The one who finds this message will 
Tell Donald, Allan, Dick, and Bill, 

Jeannette and Marion and Hugh, 

And Polly Wiggles,—Kitty, too. 

As well as Alice,—likewise Gay, 

That these commands they must obey. 

If heeded well, much joy’s in store; 

If scorned,—then Vengeance evermore.” 

The interested group on the porch gasped 
as the boys came to a breathless stop, and 
looked in amazement from one to the other 
as Billy turned the page. 

“Is that all?” inquired Donald eagerly. 

“No, there’s lots more,” Billy responded, 
his eyes quickly sweeping the next page. 

A chorus of pleading voices begged him to 
continue, and only pausing to clear his throat, 
he resumed: 

“On Friday night at six-fifteen. 

Walk single file through meadow green, 

And when you reach the running brook. 



AN EXCITING LETTER 


35 


Cross o’er the rustic bridge, and look, 

And there an apple-tree you’ll sight 

Count eight more trees, turn toward your right. 

And walk along the path you see. 

Until you reach the big fir-tree. 

And there turn left,—pursue your way, 

Until you reach a bowlder gray. 

Then carefully each one must creep. 

Right up the slope,—the way is steep, 

Until you reach the twin oak-tree. 

And you shall see, what you shall see. 

But do not venture o’er this way 
Until the hour that I say. 

Heed my commands, or come to grief, 

And do not fail 

“The Pirate Chief.” 

‘‘Good gracious!"’ gulped Marion. 'T-Pi¬ 
rates.” 

As for Polly Wiggles, she spun round on 
her toes like a top. “Oh, what fun!” she cried 
enthusiastically. “But who can have sent it?” 

“Search me,” replied Dick, a puzzled ex¬ 
pression on his freckled face. “What do you 
think, Billy?” 

Billy looked up from the letter he was 


36 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

closely inspecting with a preoccupied pucker 
between his brows. 

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” he admitted 
honestly. “But it certainly does sound thrill- 
mg. 

“Entirely too thrilling, if you ask me. I can 
feel chills running right up and down my 
spine,” shivered Kitty, eyeing the paper in 
Billy’s hand as if she thought it might go off 
with a loud bang at any moment. 

“Pooh, it’s nothing to be scared about,” 
Gabriel put in, his black eyes snapping at the 
magic word “Pirates.” “It’s probably some¬ 
body’s idea of a joke.” 

“Oh, Gabriel!” Polly Wiggles gave a dis¬ 
tressed wail. “I don’t believe it’s a joke at all.” 

“Neither do I,” chimed in Jeannette and 
Marion with disdainful glances at Gabriel, 
who refused to be squelched. 

“You don’t honestly believe there are Pi¬ 
rates nowadays, do you?” he challenged them 
scornfully. 

Alice rushed loyally to the defense of her 
friends. “You never can tell,” she declared 


AN EXCITING LETTER 


37 

with dignity. “You know they say that truth 
is stranger than fiction. IVe often heard my 
father say that.” 

“Well-1, maybe.” Gabriel’s tone was very 
doubtful, but he wavered as his glance swept 
the circle of excited faces. “Oh, of course I’ll 
go,” he acknowledged honestly, “although I 
don’t believe it’s anything but a hoax.” To tell 
the truth, nothing short of flood or fire could 
have kept him away. 

“Go!” exploded Polly Wiggles. “Of course 
you’ll go. We’ll all go if our parents will give 
us permission. I for one can hardly wait until 
Friday night.” 

“May we go. Mother?” Jeannette’s tone was 
very pleading, and the imploring expression 
on her face would have melted the heart of a 
much harder-hearted person than Mrs. Eaton. 

Mrs. Eaton, who had been staring at the 
note in silence, looked up with a twinkle in her 
calm brown eyes. 

“Go?” she unconsciously echoed in the 
very tone of Polly Wiggles. “Why, Jeannette, 
I’m not included in this message, but I’m go- 


38 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

ing myself. Wild horses couldn’t keep me 
away. With six husky boys as an escort we’ll 
certainly be safe, and we’ll ask Grandfather 
Carr to go along as extra body-guard. Why, 

I’m thrilled to mv toes.” 

0 

“Good for you. Aunt Jean!” Donald cried 
admiringly, while the girls declared that, of 
course, if Mrs. Eaton went, they were sure 
their parents would say “yes” as well. 

“Cubby, it’s high time you and I changed 
our dresses,” Mrs. Eaton exclaimed suddenly, 
smiling at Evelyn, the baby of the family. 

Cubby started indoors obediently, and Mrs. 
Eaton, picking up her trowel to follow, 
paused to peer at something that Gabriel was 
clutching. 

“What have you there. Gay?” she inquired 
curiously. 

“Just a big turtle, Mrs. Eaton. I thought it 
would eat the bugs about your vines,” Gabriel 
Le Clare exclaimed, his black eyes snapping 
with enthusiasm as he exhibited his pet. 

“Oh, don't put him on the tray with the 
glasses!” warned Polly Wiggles hastily, as 


AN EXCITING LETTER 


39 

Gabriel carefully dusted the turtle with a 
grimy handkerchief, and casually shoved him 
on the copper tray. “Dear me, I certainly 
think boys do the queerest things.” 

“Why not put him down in the flower-bed?” 
suggested Mrs. Eaton; and then for an hour 
speculation ran rife as they all talked over 
the pirate’s message in excited murmurs. 

“It’s an ad of some kind,” Allan insisted. 
“Probably when we get to the twin oak we’ll 
find a big sign on the tree advertising cutlery 
or hardware.” 

“No, I don’t agree with you,” Hugh ob¬ 
jected slowly. “For all we know, some queer 
old hermit-” 

“—is telling us where he’s buried his gold 
and doubloons. It sounds likely,—I don’t 
think,” Billy jeered skeptically. 

“You take mah advice, chilluns, and keep 
away from dat place. No good is going to 
come from seeing a pirate dat throws knives 
at you.” Mandy’s tone was solemn, and as she 
waddled her way back to the kitchen she mut¬ 
tered doleful prophecies to herself. 



40 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“Let’s agree to keep the note a secret from 
every one but our own families,” Donald 
added quickly. “For if the other children hear 
about it, every youngster in Meadowbrook 
will tag at our heels on Friday night.” 

Billy gave the directions to Grandmother 
Carr to keep, for they were complicated and 
would need to be followed closely. 

“Don’t lose it,” Gabriel cautioned anx¬ 
iously as he watched her tuck the paper away 
in her knitting-bag. 

Grandmother Carr smiled into the eager 
black eyes. “I shall guard it with my life, so 
don’t feel at all uneasy. Gay,” she assured him 
with due solemnity as she picked up her knit¬ 
ting and began to work. 

“I don’t see why you should worry,” scoffed 
Marion. “You don’t believe in pirates, you 
know.” Her tone was derisive, and Gabriel 
had the grace to look sheepish. 

“Oh, I just didn’t want the rest of you to be 
disappointed,” he muttered with a ridiculous 
air of unconcern that nearly convulsed the 
others. 


AN EXCITING LETTER 


41 


The boys gave a long-drawn-out howl of 
mirth. 

“Why, you thoughtful little dear,” began 
Allan, doubling up with laughter and tum¬ 
bling off the porch steps. 

“ ‘Unselfishness’ is his middle name,” 
snickered Dick, jumping out of Gabriel’s 
reach just in time. “He doesn’t care at all 
about going himself. Oh, no- 0 - 0 !” 

“He’s so considerate of our feelings,” added 
Donald joyously, surveying Gabriel with a 
teasing grin. “How it would hurt his tender 
heart if we were disappointed!” 

Gabriel’s color deepened. “Ah, have a 
heart,” he pleaded, as the boys, declaring they 
were due at a baseball game, went scuffling 
good-naturedly down the path, leaving the 
girls to giggle at their antics. 

Billy’s voice drifted back as he sang to the 
tune of “Mighty Lak’ a Rose”; 

^‘Kindest little chappie 
That we ever knew; 

Always making happy 

All his friends and school mates, too; 


42 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

As his smile so sunny 
Brightens every day, 

Really it’s not funny, 

That his friends all call him, ‘GAY.’ ” 

All the boys joined lustily in singing the last 
word in spite of poor Gabriel’s protests, and 
they repeated it with gusto until their voices 
died away in the distance. 

Mrs. Eaton laughed as she sauntered out 
on the porch, cool and dainty in her voile 
dress. 

“I foresee where that boy’s life is made mis¬ 
erable for days,” Grandmother Carr said with 
a shake of her head as she swung her embroid¬ 
ery-bag to and fro by its lavender ribbons. 

“Days? It will be weeks before they let up 
on him. Poor Gay always comes in for a lot of 
teasing,” Mrs. Eaton declared as she recol¬ 
lected Gabriel’s anguished expression. “We’re 
going to run over to White Birches for a few 
minutes,” she continued. “I have sent Mandy 
to the store on an errand, so please keep an eye 
on Cubby, will you, girls? She wants to play 
house out in the arbor.” 


AN EXCITING LETTER 


43 

Grandmother Carr turned to smile at the 
pretty picture the girls made in their dainty 
afternoon dresses, with the sunlight dappling 
Marion’s green pongee, and bringing out un¬ 
expected glints in Jet’s long curls. 

There was a puzzled expression on her face 
as she gazed across the velvety lawn. Nothing 
more peaceful than the old-fashioned flower- 
garden could be imagined. The rows of spicy 
clove-pinks, the tangle of sweet-william, and 
the purple clusters of wistaria swaying in 
every passing breeze like fairy clusters of 
grapes, were utterly at variance with the scar¬ 
let note in her bag. It would require a vivid im¬ 
agination indeed to picture a pirate lurking 
back of the massed rose-bushes. Yet, how ac¬ 
count for the curved knife on the library 
mantelpiece, where Mrs. Eaton had placed it 
safely out of Cubby’s reach? No wonder Mrs. 
Carr looked thoughtful as she strolled down 
the path beside her daughter. 

With a pounce, Kitty was out of her chair, 
and seizing Jeannette and Polly Wiggles each 
by the arm, she steered them over to the ham- 


44 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

mock into which she settled herself with a sigh 
of content. 

“Now,” she ordered sternly, “don’t you dare 
keep me waiting another moment or I’ll burst. 
With the boys here, and all the excitement 
we’ve been through. I’ve had to restrain my 
curiosity. But don’t you think it’s time I 
learned the secret?” 

Her tone was wheedling, and Polly Wig¬ 
gles looked mysterious as she leaned against 
the soft cushions of the swing and started it 
swaying with a touch of her white slipper. 

“You really gave me the idea,” she began 
tantalizingly, with a quick look at Kitty, who 
looked blank. 

Alice and Marion wagged their heads in 
unison. 

“I?” Kitty’s tone was astounded, and she 
gave her friend a soft pinch to make her hurry. 

“Yes, you. It’s a lovely secret, and the boys 
will be wild when they know,” put in Jean¬ 
nette. “Now, Wiggles, you go ahead and ex¬ 
plain all about it.” 


CHAPTER THREE 

THE girls’ secret 

C UBBY placed her tea-set on the floor 
of the arbor with careful fingers. The 
honeysuckle arbor was a pleasant 
spot in which to play, for it was really a small 
rustic summer-house about which the vines 
had grown in such tangled profusion that it 
was entirely enclosed in a screen of leafy 
green and fragrant blossoms. Many a happy 
hour the children had spent there with their 
dolls and playthings, but it was so small that 
the older girls had rather outgrown it, and, 
since Mrs. MacAllister had offered them the 
use of the delightful pavilions at White 
Birches, they usually preferred taking their 
things across the way. 

But for the Cubby bear it was ideal. The 
floor just comfortably held her doll’s furni¬ 
ture, and the seats were low enough for her to 
sit with comfort. 


4S 


46 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“ ’Spect we’d better go for an airing,” she 
mused slowly, trundling the doll-carriage, 
with her beloved rag-doll Marietta in it, down 
the path; but as she passed the rockery a wav¬ 
ing and stirring of the drooping ferns at¬ 
tracted her attention, and she paused with her 
finger on her lip to explore the moving 
greenery with puzzled wonder. 

“I fink maybe it’s a pirate,” she announced 
at last to Marietta, who smiled back placidly 
into her little mother’s dancing brown eyes. 

For a pirate to Cubby was merely a re¬ 
cently-heard word, and might have meant 
most anything. 

On tiptoe she advanced toward the swaying 
vines and parted them with cautious fingers. 
Then her eyes widened with amazement, and 
she beamed with pleasure at her find. 

‘‘Why, it’s a turkle,” she assured Marietta 
as she dragged laboriously into view, with 
much puffing and panting, the big turtle that 
Gabriel had placed there. “It’s a big ’nor- 
mouse turkle come to visit us.” 

She placed Marietta so her wabbly head 


THE GIRLS’ SECRET 


47 

drooped over the edge of the carriage where 
she could “see,” and then waved a chubby 
hand in introduction. 

“Turkic, this is Marietta. Look up so she 
can see you,” she ordered, stooping to peer at 
the strange creature. But the turtle retired into 
its shell and refused to budge at all. 

Cubby poked it gingerly with a small twig, 
very much astonished and grieved at its un¬ 
sociable behavior; but, not wishing to hurt it, 
she finally gave up the attempt and sat back on 
her heels on the grass and inspected it with 
puzzled curiosity. 

“I fink maybe it’s shy,” she declared after 
much thought. “I fink maybe it doesn’t feel 
happy in its mind ’cause it’s so dusty-looking, 
and it’s time to be dressed for the afternoon.” 

Yes, undoubtedly that was the reason, for 
the turtle’s shell was decidedly dirty, and 
Cubby glanced dreamily skyward as she pon¬ 
dered. 

“Muvver says,” she murmured with her 
most virtuous expression, “to be kind to ani¬ 
mals, and I’m quite sure that turkle would feel 


48 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

lots pleasanter if it had a bath. Guess I’ll give 
it one.” 

Up she jumped, and leaving the carriage 
where it was, trotted over the lawn, piping 
“Here, turkle, here, turkle,” in the coaxing 
tone with which she would have called a 
puppy. 

“Oh, what a slowpoke!” she fumed, going 
back and gazing angrily at the turtle, which 
had awkwardly lumbered a few inches in the 
opposite direction. “S’pose I’ll have to carry 
you.” 

But the turtle was far too heavy to be carried 
any distance, and Cubby’s eyes, sweeping 
about in search of inspiration, lighted on the 
doll-carriage. It was just the thing. Under its 
pink covers, side by side with Marietta, went 
the big turtle, and with the virtuous feeling of 
a deed well done. Cubby departed houseward, 
wheeling her double load. 

Meanwhile, back on the veranda, the girls 
were having a splendid pow-wow. 

“Do you remember,” began Polly Wig¬ 
gles, “the evening of the May Frolic, when 



“Turkle, this is Marietta/’—P age-4/- 


























THE GIRLS’ SECRET 


49 


we all suggested in rhyme the things we’d like 
to do this summer?” 

Kitty nodded vigorous assent. “Still I don’t 
see what—” she started uncertainly, when 
Alice interrupted without ceremony. 

“Why, you suggested starting a club,” she 
cried impetuously, leaning over to give Kitty’s 
arm a swift pat; “and that is just exactly what 
we’re going to do.” 

Kitty clapped her hands with delight and 
gave Jeannette an impulsive squeeze. 

“It’s to be just for girls,—for us,” Wiggles 
continued, waving her hand impressively 
from one to the other, “and it’s to be a cooking 
club.” 

“A cooking club? Why? What are we go¬ 
ing to cook?” demanded Kitty breathlessly, 
gazing at the other four in fascinated wonder 
as she composed herself to listen. 

Polly Wiggles hastened to explain. “Oh, 
we’re going to cook all kinds of things,” she 
responded as airily as if that were a mere de¬ 
tail. 

“And then, after we’ve tried making lots of 



50 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

delicious things, we want to give a dinner for 
the boys,—a fancy dinner that we have cooked 
every bit ourselves,” added Jet with a flourish. 
“Won’t that be fun?” 

Kitty looked rather overcome, but bore the 
shock nobly; for the dinner the girls were 
planning to give was to be a progressive affair, 
as they all explained at once. Mrs. Eaton had 
attended one in the winter, and the idea had 
greatly appealed to her daughters. So now 
Wiggles said, “If each one of us cooks and 
serves a course, it really won’t be hard t@ do. 
Isn’t it a scrumptious plan?” 

“Gorgeous!” enthused Kitty at once. 
“When shall we give it?” 

“Oh, not till the end of the summer, after 
we’ve practised a lot. I’m sure our mothers 
will be willing for us to try our hands at cook¬ 
ing, for I know Grandmother says that she 
considers it one of the old-fashioned accom¬ 
plishments.” 

“So does my grandmother,” chimed in 
Marion eagerly. 

“And Grandfather says it’s too bad that most 


THE GIRLS’ SECRET 


51 


modern girls think they need only to open a 
can,” added Jeannette. 

“But we’re not to have any help at all,” 
Alice warned with an emphatic shake of her 
head. “We’re to do every bit of our practising 
alone,—just following recipes and not even 
asking advice.” Then with a sudden change of 
tone she added, as she gazed across the lawn, 
“Now, where do you suppose Cubby is bound 
for?” 

Jet and Polly Wiggles sat erect and glanced 
quickly in the direction that Alice pointed, as 
the wee bear wheeled her carriage past the 
porch, and pausing only long enough to wave 
to the older girls, continued on her way 
around the corner of the house. 

“She’s all right.” Jeannette’s tone was calmly 
certain as she sank back cozily in the swing. 
“She’s playing house with that awful rag-doll 
of hers, and is probably taking it to the store 
on an errand.” 

“The store?” echoed Marion, her eyes fol¬ 
lowing Evelyn. 

“She pretends the back porch is the store. 


52 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

and she goes there marketing with Marietta 
almost every day. When Mandy isn’t too busy, 
she plays that she is the shopkeeper, and 
Cubby buys from her, using dandelions for 
money. I do wish she’d lose Marietta, for she’s 
the worst object I ever saw, but Cubby adores 
her.” 

“Yes,” continued Wiggles in a candid out- 

« 

burst, “I really feel dreadfully ashamed to have 
people see my little sister with such a disgust- 
able doll. Marietta’s been washed and washed, 
but she’s always grimy. I think it looks very un¬ 
sanitary for a doctor’s daughter to play with 
such a germy-looking doll, myself. But Daddy 
says to let her alone, ’cause when we’re grimy 
he doesn’t throw us into the trash basket, and 
of course I’ll have to confess that I’m grubby 
half the time. Just think, wouldn’t I look funny 
if he did throw me away in the waste-paper 
basket like an old toy!” she added with her 
usual infectious giggle. 

“What an idea,” protested Marion seriously. 
“You do have the craziest notions. Wiggles. 
Say, girls, what shall we name our club?” 


THE GIRLS’ SECRET 


53 

So, certain that Evelyn was quietly amusing 
herself, they all settled back comfortably to an¬ 
swer the bombardment of Kitty’s eager ques¬ 
tions, and to decide on the important matter of 
a name, and for an hour discussion waxed fast 
and furious. 

Under the spreading cherry-tree by the back 
porch Cubby paused with her doll-carriage. 

“Now, Marietta, you rest here,” she mur¬ 
mured as she kissed the soiled face of the doll 
she cared more about than all her newer and 
prettier “children.” 

As Jet had said. Marietta was a fearful- 
looking object. Her painted face was gray 
from much loving and the stuffing in her body 
had become tightly packed in some spots and 
had almost entirely disappeared from other 
parts, until her bumpy head wobbled on a pipe- 
stem neck in a most grotesque manner. But 
Cubby loved her just the same. So now she 
tucked her about with the covers before un¬ 
wrapping the big turtle. Then, with much puf¬ 
fing and panting, she lugged it up the back 
steps. 


54 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

The big kitchen was deserted, as Hannah, 
the second-maid, was having her afternoon 
out, and Mandy was still away on her errand. 
Cubby could hear the girls chattering out on 
the porch, and she thoughtfully closed the 
door leading to the pantry, so that she would 
be undisturbed, before she placed the dusty 
turtle on the clean linoleum floor. 

“Just wait a minute, turkle,” she murmured 
as she scurried about busily, “and I’ll have 
your bath all weady for you.” 

In the sink was an enormous blue bowl con¬ 
taining watercress and lettuce, all prepared 
for dinner, and filled to the brim with water. 

Cubby, on tiptoe, eyed it approvingly. It 
was just the thing for a bathtub, and the crisp 
lettuce-leaves would make a fine resting-place 
for the turtle while it was being tubbed. 

The sink was too high for her to reach with 
comfort, so after a hurried trip up-stairs and 
another into the dining-room in search of a 
few necessary articles, she pushed over the 
footstool that stood under the tubs. Then, lift¬ 
ing the heavy creature in both hands, she 


THE GIRLS’ SECRET 


55 

dropped it with a thud into the bowl, where, 
much to her amazement, it swam about, draped 
in spiky wreaths of watercress. Cubby eyed its 
antics with astonishment and disapproval, not 
at all pleased with its scaly-looking claws. 

“Sit down,” she ordered firmly, giving the 
turtle a tap on its shell. “That’s not the way to 
take a bath, at all.” 

But evidently her pet liked the water, for it 
circled round and round the bowl, much to her 
distress. The clear water took on a dingy gray 
appearance, which in turn soon changed to 
black, and Cubby, taking her courage in both 
hands, finally grasped the edge of the crea¬ 
ture’s shell and held tight. Then, using the 
attar-of-rose toilet soap that was Aunt Elsie’s 
pet luxury, and her grandmother’s tooth-brush 
as a scrubbing-brush, she scoured with vigor 
until the bowl was filled with foamy white suds 
swirling about on the dark water like clots of 
whipped cream on coffee. 

Trickling streams of black ran down the 
wee bear’s dainty dress, and dribbled off in 
inky drops on her white slippers. 


56 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

Everything she undertook was done with 
vim, so, though her face turned red with her 
efforts and her wrists grew tired, she never 
paused until her task was thoroughly com¬ 
pleted. But at last, confident that the turtle was 
as clean as soap and water could make it, she 
lifted the slippery creature out and plumped 
him down on the drain-board, where he 
promptly pulled in his head and legs and re¬ 
sumed his former torpid appearance. 

Cubby, busily engaged in drying him ten¬ 
derly with her mother’s best Madeira tea-nap- 
kins, looked at him in alarm. 

“ ’Spect he’s cold,” she mused in dismay as 
she sprinkled her grandmother’s lilac talcum 
powder liberally over the edges of his claws 
that were just visible, and dusted him off with 
her mother’s swansdown powder-puff. “I do 
hope he won’t catch cold.” 

With one hand absently pulling a straying 
golden curl on her forehead, she pondered seri¬ 
ously. 

Then painfully, step by step, up the back 
stairs she toiled, lugging the turtle with her. 


THE GIRLS’ SECRET 


SI 

until at last, with tired hands and a gusty sigh 
of- relief, she placed him in her mother’s bed, 
heaped about with yellow pillows to keep him 
from rolling to the floor. 

Now the question was, what to give him for 
a cold? She had no desire to feed pills into that 
reptilian-looking mouth, and with a serious 
look in her brown eyes. Cubby wavered be¬ 
tween fear and what she considered her duty. 

Duty won, and with unfaltering purpose she 
scurried into the bathroom, where, in the cabi¬ 
net over the washbowl, was the bottle of little 
pellets which her daddy always gave her when 
she started sneezing. Then her face brightened 
as her roving eyes spied the hot-water bottle on 
a hook by the bathtub. 

“There,” she beamed with a sigh of relief, 
“if that poor turkle has a chill, I fink this is 
what he needs to warm him.” With lightened 
heart she filled the bag from the hot-water 
faucet, and then, putting in the stopper as 
tight as her small fingers could manage, she 
hastened back. 

The Daisy room, as Dr. and Mrs. Eaton’s 


58 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

room was always called, was most attractive 
with its sunny yellow walls and daisy-strewn 
cretonnes, and as Cubby arranged the turtle 
comfortably in bed with the water-bottle on 
one side, and then tucked it cozily about with 
the yellow knitted slumber-robe, she eyed the 
bureau with approval. Her glance strayed 
from the silver jewel-box which she had often 
admired, along the fascinating array of toilet 
articles, lingered with dawning speculation in 
her eyes on the long-handled shell mirror, and 
then darted back to her turtle in startled won¬ 
der. 

“Why, why,” she gasped as she jumped 
down from' the edge of the bed, “I do be¬ 
lieve—” Her words trailed off into silence as 
she hastily departed kitchenward once more. 
For a brand-new idea had dawned in Cubby’s 
fertile brain. 


CHAPTER FOUR 
cubby’s escapade 

T he kitchen was very quiet when 
Grandmother Carr pushed open the 
pantry door and entered. Then she 
gave an exclamation of dismay as she glanced 
with startled eyes about Mandy’s usually spot¬ 
less domain. 

There were large puddles of dirty water on 
the blue-and-white linoleum floor, while lying 
on the drain-board were several articles which 
she examined with a tightening of her lips. 

“My tooth-brush, black as the ace of spades, 
Elsie’s best toilet soap, and the remains of what 
was once Jean’s powder puff,” she muttered 
grimly as she enumerated the articles. “The 
little rascal! What has she been up to now?” 

Here the door from the dining-room was 
pushed ajar and Mrs. Eaton glanced in. Then 
her usually calm brown eyes widened with sur- 

59 


6o POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

prise as they lighted upon a pile of dirty and 
much-besmudged tea-napkins, dropped hit or 
miss about the kitchen floor. 

“My best Madeira napkins,” she gasped 
with heightened color, pouncing upon them 
one by one and examining them with increas¬ 
ing' astonishment. “They look as if they had 
been used to clean the family shoes. What 
does it mean?” 

“Mean? It means Cubby, of course,” 
declared Grandmother Carr with a shake of 
her head as she eyed the napkins which her 
daughter mutely held out for her inspection. 

Mandy, appearing at the kitchen door with 
her arms full of bundles, dropped them with a 
clatter as she strode over to examine the bowl 
in the sink. 

“Look-a-here, Miss Jean. Jest cast your eyes 
on this. Ah asts you,” she cried dramatically 
with a sweeping gesture that included foot¬ 
stool, dripping drain-board, and a bowl of 
some black liquid. 

“But what is it, anyway?” demanded Aunt 
Elsie with curiosity, glancing over Mandy’s 


CUBBY’S ESCAPADE 


6 i 

broad shoulder and knitting her brows at sight 
of the bits of greenish gray that floated about 
the dirty edges of the bowl. 

“What is it? It’s mah lettuce and cress for 
dinnah to-night, that what it am,—or was,” 
Mandy snorted, tossing her turbaned head and 
gingerly Ashing up blackened and wilted bits 
of lettuce. “There’ll be no salad to-night, and 
how is Ah to make the hot biscuits dat Prince 
Donald always likes to go with the creamed 
chicken, when Ah has a kitchen looking like 
kingdom-come,—Ah asts you?” 

“I’ll help you,” Aunt Elsie replied diplo¬ 
matically, and as Grandmother Carr and Mrs. 
Eaton departed hastily in search of the small 
sinner, she started clearing up with willing 
hands. 

“Where’s Cubby?” 

Jeannette and Polly Wiggles looked up 
from straightening the porch chairs and 
plumping up the cretonne cushions, to glance 
about at the breathless question asked by their 
mother in a decidedly agitated voice. 

“Why, she’s been as good as a kitten,” Jean- 



62 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

nette cried gayly as she and Polly Wiggles 
waved final good-bys to their three friends as 
they went skipping down the path toward the 
gate. “She’s played ‘store’ all afternoon with 
Marietta, and we’ve never heard a word out 
of her.” 

“A sure sign of mischief,” sighed Mrs. 
Eaton, mounting the front stairs rapidly, 
while Mrs. Carr followed close behind. “Well, 
will you look at this!” 

No wonder she exclaimed, for as she pushed 
open the door into the Daisy room, a startling 
tableau met her eyes. 

Perched on the top of the bureau, sur¬ 
rounded by dainty toilet articles of every de¬ 
scription, sat Cubby, her cheeks red as roses 
and her brown eyes beaming. A bottle of 
furniture polish was in one hand, and her 
mother’s tortoise-shell nail-buffer was in the 
other. She looked up with a dazzling smile as 
the others halted in the doorway to stare at her 
speechlessly, and then briskly resumed polish¬ 
ing the shell of the great turtle which was be- 


CUBBY’S ESCAPADE 63 

side her, hedged about with brushes and per¬ 
fume-bottles. 

“Evelyn Eaton!” began her mother sternly, 
viewing with anguished eyes the sticky trail 
of polish that had spattered from the embroid¬ 
ered bureau-scarf down to the yellow rag rug 
on the polished floor. 

“And look here, Jean,” wailed Grandmother 
Carr suddenly, reaching over to remove the 
slumber robe and yellow spread with a swoop, 
and to pick up the leaking hot-water bottle. 
“It’s soaked through to the mattress! Cubby, 
you little sinner! I do believe you’ve had that 
creature here in bed.” 

Cubby raised her grieved brown eyes. 

“The turkle was cold,” she murmured with 
drooping lips, “and I didn’t want him to catch 
a sore froat. But he was all clean first,” she 
hastened to explain, “ ’cause I gave him a bath, 
all by self.” 

“Evelyn, you’ve been a very naughty girl. 
You are to take that creature down-stairs im¬ 
mediately and put it out in the garden. Then, 


64 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

come back to me,” directed Mrs. Eaton se¬ 
verely as she lifted her small daughter down 
from her high perch. 

Cubby’s lip quivered. She knew when she 
was called by her own name in that tone of 
voice, that she was in serious disgrace. 

“Oh, I polished him so be-ootifully, Muv- 
ver,” she wailed, clasping the turtle tight in 
her arms, “and he’ll look so lovely on your 
bureau with your other tortoise-shell things. 
He’s tortoise shell, too, and I’ve shined him up 
so bright that he just m-m-matches.” 

“My goodness, what will that child think of 
next?” reflected Grandmother Carr, gazing 
at the polished turtle on which the wee bear’s 
tears were dripping. “Imagine a turtle on the 
bureau as an ornament!” 

“Why, it’s the turtle that Gay brought over 1” 
exclaimed Jet and Polly Wiggles, bending to 
examine it. “Turtles like to live out in the 
garden,” they explained to their wailing sister. 
“Honestly, Cubby. Why, it would be very un¬ 
happy indoors, and wouldn’t stay on that bu¬ 
reau for five minutes.” 


CUBBY’S ESCAPADE 65 

But the wee bear refused to be comforted, 
and Polly Wiggles turned to her mother. 

“Shall I take it down for her?” she began 
as Cubby trailed disconsolately toward the 
door with lagging steps. 

Mrs. Eaton shook her head in dissent. “No, 
Elizabeth,” she said, “Cubby brought it up 
here, and she must lug it down by herself. You 
may empty the water-bottle to help me, and 
Jeannette may get fresh sheets from the linen- 
closet while I clear up the mess. My nail-buf¬ 
fer is quite ruined with furniture polish, and I 
don’t know that the stains will ever come out 
of the rug.” 

The dinner-gong was sounding by the time 
the final clearing-up had been accomplished. 
In the Nest, Cubby had been tucked to bed in 
disgrace, and her tears were plentiful as she 
recollected that her adored Donald was. to be 
at dinner, and she would not be there to listen 
to the merry chatter and good-natured banter 
which always took place. 

She did not get to sleep until long after her 
mother had gone down-stairs. In the dining- 


66 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

room below she could hear the tinkle of glass 
and china and the hum of voices, punctuated 
by Jet’s and Polly Wiggles’ giggles and Don¬ 
ald’s deeper chuckles. There was a tantaliz¬ 
ing odor of chicken and biscuits in the air, too, 
and, as Cubby well knew, a freezer of delicious 
pineapple sherbet was on the back porch 
waiting to be served. She sniffed back her tears 
dolefully. It wasn’t that she was hungry, for 
a plain bread-and-milk supper had been served 
to her in her bedroom. But what was bread 
and milk when all the others were eating 
creamed chicken and sherbet and enjoying 
the fascinating conversation of Prince Don¬ 
ald? For he always told such interesting things 
about the far-away lands he had visited, and 
the boys and girls of other nations he had 
known. The last time it had been about kite¬ 
flying in Japan, and Cubby had listened en¬ 
tranced, firmly resolving that when she grew 
older she would travel to that flowery king¬ 
dom and see children who wore bright-colored 
kimonos on the street and ate their dinner with 
chop-sticks. 


CUBBY’S ESCAPADE 


67 

Down-stairs the evening passed pleasantly, 
although it must be confessed that Donald 
spent a great deal of time and effort in trying 
to worm the secret from the girls. But when he 
departed for home, promptly at nine, the secret 
was as much of a secret as ever, and Donald’s 
curiosity had increased enormously. 

“Don’t forget,’’ he warned as he paused on 
the steps to bid them all good night, “that I 
shall plague the life out of you until you con¬ 
fess or I guess. And don’t forget Friday night 
either,” he added, lowering his voice myste¬ 
riously as he turned to go. 

“As if we could,” Polly Wiggles assured 
him from the porch. “Why, I can hardly wait.” 

“Yes, I’m sure we’ll dream of pirates to¬ 
night,” Jeannette broke in with a smothered 
yawn, “and of mysterious letters and whizzing 
knives. Hasn’t this been an exciting day?” 

Maybe it was because of the excitement that 
sleep did not come as rapidly as usual to either 
of the girls. They turned and twisted in their 
beds until long after the others were settled for 
the night, and the hall clock had struck twelve 


68 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

before the last whispers had died into silence. 

The room was pitch-black when Polly Wig¬ 
gles wakened again, roused by a peculiar rus¬ 
tling that came from the depths of the roomy 
closet that she shared with Jeannette. What 
could it be? Shivering with fright and almost 
afraid to breathe, she listened with straining 
ears to the stealthy noises, while through her 
mind flashed the recollection of a conversation 
she had heard that morning. 

She had been arranging bowls of daisies out 
on the back porch when James, Grandfather 
Carr’s colored chauffeur, had paused for a 
drink of water on his way through the kitchen 
where Hannah was polishing silver. 

“Wasn’t it terrible about that robbery in 
Hillcrest?” she had begun, rubbing away en¬ 
ergetically on the silver tea-set that was Grand¬ 
mother Carr’s special pride. 

“ ’Deed it was,’’ James had responded be¬ 
tween gulps of water. “Every single bit of the 
silver and jewelry was taken. They say the 
burglars got in while the family were at din¬ 
ner, and hid until they were sound asleep. I 


CUBBY’S ESCAPADE 69 

only hope they leave us alone here in Meadow- 
brook, be-lieve me.” 

Hannah shook her head with a mournful 
air, and Polly Wiggles had giggled as she 
peeped through the screen door and noted the 
air of resigned enjoyment on her face. 

Now, as she shook with fright in every limb, 
it did not seem at all humorous, and her vivid 
imagination easily pictured a burglar stealing 
in and creeping up-stairs during the merry 
chatter at the dinner table, and concealing 
himself in the depths of her closet until the 
house was quiet. He would take her mother’s 
engagement ring and her grandmother’s ame¬ 
thysts as well, and then with the thought of her 
grandmother came the recollection of the sil¬ 
ver tea-set. 

It had been given to Grandfather and 
Grandmother Carr by an old friend on their 
twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and they 
both treasured it highly, not only for its intrin¬ 
sic value, but for the loving thought that had 
prompted the beautiful gift. It moved from 
city home to country home when Grandma 


70 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

did, and during the winter months, while she 
was in Florida, it was swathed in flannel wrap¬ 
pings and safely stowed away in the bank. 

Why, Grandma would be broken-hearted if 
the burglar took that. Undoubtedly he would 
select it the first thing, too, for it was solid sil¬ 
ver and valuable. 

Cautiously Polly Wiggles put one shivering 
foot out of bed, and then hastily withdrew it 
as another soft bump warned her that she 
would need to be very quiet. From the next 
bed she could hear Jet’s even breathing, and 
she was thankful that her sister was spared the 
numbing fright that spread over her afresh at 
each muffled noise. If only she could creep 
into the Lilac or Daisy room and warn her 
father or grandfather. Then with sinking heart 
she remembered that the doors between the 
rooms were closed, and that each when opened 
had a penetrating squeak that would surely 
alarm the burglar before she would be able 
to summon help. 

But how could she save the silver? 

Evidently he was groping about in search 


CUBBY’S ESCAPADE 


71 

of the suit-case filled with odds and ends of 
flat silverware that Mrs. Eaton always stowed 
in the back of the closet, in the Forget-me-not 
room. That closet had a stout lock, as Wig¬ 
gles suddenly remembered. 

Cold with chills, but with her courage un¬ 
daunted, Polly Wiggles slipped out of bed, 
fearful lest a squeaking board betray her move¬ 
ments as she crept over the floor. Then, with a 
quick slam that roused every member of the 
household, she banged the door shut and shot 
the bolt home with quivering fingers. 

“Daddy — Grandpa — burglars!” she 
shrieked, her throat feeling as dry as sand¬ 
paper. 

Jeannette, roused from a sound sleep, 
bounced up in bed rubbing drowsy eyes. Then, 
as she tried to scramble out, she caught her 
foot in the covers and fell to the floor with a 
crash. 

“Pirates! pirates!” she shrilled, only half 
awake as she tried to extricate herself from the 
snarl of bedclothes. “They’re in the closet.” 

The others came running. Dr. Eaton with a 


72 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

revolver, and Grandfather Carr with a flash¬ 
light, and Polly Wiggles nervously poured out 
a quick explanation. 

The bumping in the closet grew louder, and 
Dr. Eaton, motioning for the women to stand 
aside, listened intently. 

“I warn you that we are armed, and that it 
is useless for you to resist,” he said sternly. 
Then Grandfather Carr swung open the closet 
door. 

In neat rows on their hangers swung dainty 
summer dresses, apparently undisturbed. On 
the floor, in the orderly rows that told of Jean¬ 
nette’s neat ways, patent-leather slippers 
nudged white-canvas pumps. Even a dilapi¬ 
dated pair of Wiggles’ sneakers had been 
trimly placed in line, with shoe-trees in each to 
keep them in shape, as Jet had explained to her 
happy-go-lucky sister, who could never re¬ 
member that shoe-trees were for use. 

But where was the burglar? Could he have 
secreted himself in the dark depths at the back 
of the closet? Polly Wiggles shivered as her 


CUBBY’S ESCAPADE 


73 


grandfather twisted his flashlight about, light¬ 
ing up the black shadowy corners,—but no 
lurking figure was visible. 

“It’s a ghost, dat’s what it am,” chattered 
Mandy, who had joined the group, a fearful 
and wonderful sight, wrapped about in a gay- 
colored quilt, with her turban over one ear. 
“Yes’m, dat’s jest what it am. Pretty soon we’ll 
feel a cold clammy hand, and then—” She 
paused with a shudder and rolled her eyes from 
one to the other. 

Thump, thump, thump. The noise came 
from the bottom of the closet, of that there 
could be no doubt. 

“Nonsense, Mandy; I’m surprised at you 
for being so silly,” Grandfather Carr snorted, 
flashing his light downward. 

With a sudden hysterical giggle that was 
echoed by the others. Aunt Elsie fell on her 
knees, and, groping among the hat-boxes, 
finally pulled into view—Cubby’s turtle! 

“Is it time to get up?” 

The shaking group in bathrobes and kim- 



74 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

onos swung around at sound of the surprised 
little voice. 

Struggling with yawns that threatened to 
overcome her, with drowsy brown eyes look¬ 
ing about in puzzled wonder, stood the wee 
bear, clad in diminutive pink pajamas, with her 
tousled golden curls in rumpled disorder. 
Then her eyes widened as her glance swept 
from Jeannette in her snarled nest of sheets, 
on and on across the floor, and came to rest on 
the polished turtle. Recollection dawned sud¬ 
denly, and with a sorrowful wail she flew to 
the haven of her grandfather’s comforting 
arms. 

“Oh, I couldn’t frow him out of doors to 
be all m-mussed up again,” she hiccoughed, 
with tears dribbling off on her grandfather’s 
sleeve in little puddles. “He’s too—too fancy 
to live where it’s dusty, honestly, Pampa. He’s 
real tortoise-shell, just like Muvver’s b-bureau 
set, and he just m-matches. But she didn’t want 
him. So—I,” her gaze swept the circle and 
came to rest on her mother’s face with a plead¬ 
ing expression that begged for forgiveness, “so 



CUBBY’S ESCAPADE 75 

I parked him in Wiggles’ closet until I could 
save enough pennies to buy a set to go with 
him for my bureau,” she finished with a dole¬ 
ful sniff. 


CHAPTER FIVE 


THE MYSTIC-STAR GIRLS 

A unt ELSIE,” murmured Jean¬ 
nette, popping her curly head in 
the door and then briskly enter- 
the pleasant library where Aunt Elsie was 
writing letters at the old-fashioned secretary, 
“do you know if there is any tin-foil in the 
house?” 

Aunt Elsie gave a hasty blot to her letter 
and laid down her fountain pen as she glanced 
up with a slightly absent expression in her blue 
eyes. 

“Tin-foil? Why, I imagine I can find some 
for you,” she replied as she rummaged busily 
through the drawer of the desk and produced 
several small squares of silver foil. 

Jeannette gave a joyful exclamation. “Oh, 
those will be splendid!” she beamed. “Thank 
you ever so much.” And bearing away the 

76 


THE MYSTIC-STAR GIRLS 


77 

shining squares, she disappeared down the 
hall. 

Aunt Elsie nibbled her pen thoughtfully 
and wondered at the unusual quietness of the 
house. Almost every afternoon some of the 
children could be heard chattering away on 
the broad veranda, for The Lilacs seemed to 
be the favorite meeting-place of all the young 
people. But now, in spite of the beautiful day, 
the porch was entirely deserted. No sound of 
merry voices and happy giggles sounded from 
the hammock where the girls were usually to 
be found. Aunt Elsie gave a little sigh of con¬ 
tent, and then once more her pen moved rap¬ 
idly over the note-paper. 

“Oh, Aunt Elsie,” exclaimed Polly Wiggles, 
appearing suddenly at her elbow a minute 
later, “do you s’pose you could find me some 
scraps of cardboard? I can’t find a single bit 
anywhere, though I’ve looked and looked.” 
She gave her aunt a swift kiss as she ended, 
which jarred the pen so that a large and un¬ 
sightly blot spread out on the writing-paper, 
much to Wiggles’ distress. 


78 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“There! I never meant to do that at all. I’m 
so sorry I joggled,” she apologized sorrow¬ 
fully, dabbing at the blot with her clean hand¬ 
kerchief and playing havoc with both that and 
the letter. 

Aunt Elsie waved her away hurriedly as she 
laid aside her pen with a slight sigh. Then, tear¬ 
ing up the damaged letter, she let the pieces 
flutter into the scrap-basket. 

“I know you didn’t mean to, dear,” she re¬ 
turned kindly, “but you do have a strange pro¬ 
pensity for accidents.” 

When Wiggles had made off with the cov¬ 
eted cardboard, the letter-writing was again 
continued, only to be interrupted a third time 
by the modest demand from both girls, who 
appeared with Alice, Marion, and Kitty at 
their heels, for a few snips of old ribbon. 

“Children, I probably could help you better 
if I knew what these things were for,” Aunt 
Elsie declared with a patient sigh as she swung 
about in her chair to smile into the five eager 
faces. 

“What’s all this serious confab about?” in- 


THE MYSTIC-STAR GIRLS 


79 

quired Mrs, Eaton, as she came through the 
French doors, carrying a bowl of nasturtiums 
in one hand and a huge basket of mending in 
the other, while Cubby trailed behind. 

“Why, you see. Mother,” explained Polly 
Wiggles, curling down on the davenport and 
motioning the other girls to seats, “we have 
formed a club.” 

She spoke the words with such an important 
air that the others looked duly impressed. 

Alice picked up the sleeping Boots and sat 
down with him in her arms as she chimed in. 

“That was our secret,” she confessed, “and, 
oh, how the boys have teased and teased to find 
out about it.” 

Marion gave a sudden giggle of amuse¬ 
ment. “You should hear Hugh tease me at 
home. Why, I never knew him to be so deter¬ 
mined to find out anything before. It nearly 
drives him frantic to think I can keep a secret 
from him and not even drop a hint. I think all 
the boys have been counting on his finding out 
from me. He got so mad when I wouldn’t tell, 
that I told him his name ought to be ‘Whew,’ 


8 o POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

instead of Hugh,” she added placidly, and 
Mrs. Eaton could well imagine how her calm 
manner would only goad Hugh to fresh ef¬ 
forts. 

“But why the ribbon, cardboard, and tin- 
foil?” Aunt Elsie’s tone was puzzled. It was 
plain she did not see the connection, so Jean¬ 
nette settled down to explain. 

“We want to use those for making badges.” 

“What did I tell you, Jean?” Aunt Elsie 
turned to her sister with an I-told-you-so ex¬ 
pression. “I said it was nearly time for the club 
fever to hit the girls.” Then she tilted back in 
her chair and put aside her letter-writing for 
the time being, as she said with interest, “And 
what is the name of your club?” 

“It’s the ‘Mystic-Star Girls.’ ” Marion made 
the announcement proudly as she leaned over 
to pat Boots, the cat meanwhile purring like 
a tea-kettle. “Like a club my father belongs to, 
called the ‘Mystic Shrine.’ ” 

“What is the club for, Woggsie?” inquired 
Grandfather Carr, entering quietly and tick¬ 
ling his granddaughter in the ribs. 


THE MYSTIC-STAR GIRLS 8i 

“Oh, Grandpa, don’t. You make me lose the 
breath in my diagram,” squealed Polly Wig¬ 
gles, twisting away and shaking a reproving 
finger at him. 

“Your diaphragm,” corrected Jeannette. 
“Oh, Grandpa, you’re a boy, and I don’t be¬ 
lieve we should tell you a single solitary thing 
about it. This is only for girls, you know, and 
maybe you’ll tell the other boys.” 

“May-bees don’t fly in July, Miss Jet,” 
Grandfather Carr returned with an affection¬ 
ate tweak of her long curls. “My, I’m so re¬ 
lieved that you consider me a mere boy in 
spite of my years, that I cross my heart 
and swear, ‘honest-true-black-and-blue-lay-me- 
down - and - cut - me - in - two - that -1 - won’t 
breathe-a-single-word-about-you.’ ” 

The girls giggled, for Mr. Carr crossed his 
hands on his chest and made his promise so 
solemnly that they couldn’t keep sober faces. 

“You mustn’t tell them we have a club, 
either. That’s part of the secret,” warned Polly 
Wiggles quickly. 

“Certainly not. I’m a Mystic Shriner my- 


82 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

self, and we club members must stand to¬ 
gether—that is, if you are going to use us as 
models.” 

“Not models exactly. We just liked the 
name,—the Mystic part, that is. You don’t 
think they’ll mind our using it, do you? That 
was the only part we copied. But it sounds so 
sort of—of—er—” Kitty floundered about un¬ 
certainly and Polly Wiggles went to her res¬ 
cue. 

“Sort of mysterious, and creepy and 
spooky,” she declared with relish, smacking 
her lips as if the word were something good to 
eat. 

“I’m sure they won’t mind your using 
that one word,” her grandfather assured her 
promptly. “But tell me more about the club.” 

“It’s really a cooking club. Grandpa,” Jean¬ 
nette chimed in with gusto, “and then we’re to 
be helpful about the house in any way we can 
be, too. But a cooking club sounded so tame 
and every-dayish, that we thought we’d dress it 
up with a fancy name. I think ‘Mystic-Star 




THE MYSTIC-STAR GIRLS 


83 

Girls’ sounds perfectly splendiferous, and if 
the boys should discover the name, they’d 
never guess it was a cooking club in a million 
years.” 

“I should think not! A cooking club called 
The ‘Mystic-Star Girls,’ ” ejaculated her 
grandfather, looking slightly dazed. “Why, 
Sherlock Holmes, that great detective himself, 
would never see the connection. Yes, I’m quite, 
quite sure your secret is safe.” 

“Alice wrote the motto. It’s beautijul,” put 
in Polly Wiggles enthusiastically, dancing 
away toward the closet, on the inner door of 
which hung a blackboard. “Wait a minute and 
I’ll copy it.” 

Alice sat with blushing modesty while Wig¬ 
gles wrote the motto in large curly letters. 

“OUR MOTTO. 

Oh, we are the Mystic-Star Girls, 

We cook, we mend, and through each day 
We do our best, though not in jest. 

And help in every way. 


84 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

Our flag of yellow and of gray 
We float aloft ’mid blazing sun, 

And try to be, so all can see, 

A help to every one.” 

Grandfather Carr, who had grown very red 
in the face, had a violent spell of coughing and 
had to leave the room in a hurry. “I fear my 
diagram is affected,” he choked as he departed 
with haste. 

“Well, girls,” said Mrs. Eaton, who was 
bent over her mending, “you may take twenty- 
five cents out of my pocket-book and buy what 
ribbon you wish.” 

“And I’ll help with your badges,” offered 
Aunt Elsie promptly. 

“Though why,” she laughed to Grand¬ 
mother Carr, who had slipped in unnoticed 
and was busily knitting, “they ever chose yel¬ 
low and gray of all colors, I can’t see. It sug¬ 
gests a smallpox quarantine.” 

“Let them alone,” her mother advised with a 
shake of her head. “Well do I remember, 
Elsie, when you belonged to a dramatic club, 
and played ‘Romeo and Juliet.’ You were 


THE MYSTIC-STAR GIRLS 85 

Romeo in your father’s smoking-jacket and 
my fur-edged bedroom slippers.” 

When the girls returned from the store fif¬ 
teen minutes later, five stars had been neatly 
cut from cardboard and covered with silver 
foil, while M. S. G. was printed on each in yel¬ 
low crayon. It took only a short time to attach 
the streamers of yellow and gray ribbon, and 
then each girl proudly pinned a badge on her 
dress. 

Of course, the badges could not go long un¬ 
noticed by the boys, and only served to whet 
their curiosity, for then the teasing com¬ 
menced in earnest. 

“M. S. G.” mused Donald with a side glance 
at Polly Wiggles’ bent head, with its snarly 
mop of black curls. “Now what can that stand 
for? Let me see.” He knitted his brows in 
thought for a moment, and then took a chance. 
“Merry Sunshine Girls?” he suggested hope¬ 
fully. 

The girls exchanged amused smiles, and 
Wiggles shook her head. 

“Naw, it means, ‘Marion’s Silly Giggle,’ ” 


86 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 


put in Hugh, heatedly, still very much dis¬ 
gusted because he had been unable to worm 
the secret from his sister. 

“If it’s something to do with their old secret, 
the ‘S’ stands for ‘Secret.’ I think they’ve got 
their letters turned about, and it ought to be 
‘M. G. S.,’—‘My Great Secret.’ There, I’ve 
guessed it, haven’t I?” crowed Gabriel, as his 
black eyes flashed from one demure face to the 
other. 

Polly Wiggles smothered a giggle. “Don’t 
they think they’re smart, to guess so easily?” 
she twinkled with a mocking glance at the baf¬ 
fled boyish faces about her. “And did you ever 
see such curiosity? No, Gay—you’re wrong, 
and the letters are right.” 

The boys looked thoroughly exasper¬ 
ated. 

“Is it ‘Mandy’s Spiffy Griddlecakes’?” put 
in Dick impulsively. “Yum, yum, she certainly 
makes good ones.” 

“Of course not! Who ever heard of such a 
thing on a badge?” Marion’s tone said even 
more plainly than her words that she thought 


THE MYSTIC-STAR GIRLS 87 

Dick had lost his senses, and he flushed 
through his tan and sunburn. 

“ ‘Many Silly Girls,’ ” volunteered Allan 
with a sweeping gesture that included them all. 
“That makes sense.” 

“Nonsense, you mean,” retorted Jeannette 
indignantly. “You might as well give up, for 
you’ll never, never guess.” 

“Jet, Jet, we’ll guess it yet. 

We’ll never give up, you just can bet,” 

drawled Billy from the steps where he had set¬ 
tled himself with a cone of newspaper on his 
head as a “thinking-cap.” Judging from his 
expression, it did not seem to be helping him 
much, and the girls gave blissful sighs. It was 
such fun to have Billy the tease paid back in 
his own coin. 

“How does ‘Many Sweet Goodies’ sound?” 
he asked at last, with the calmly amused air that 
was simply maddening to Alice. 

“It sounds very well,” she returned coolly, 
sitting bold upright on the edge of her chair. 

“Well, is it right?” 


88 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“No.” 

Billy gave a little shiver and pulled the col¬ 
lar of his coat closer about his neck. 

“B-rr, the weather’s cold around here,” he 
murmured plaintively. “I just dropped in to 
talk over plans for a picnic in the near future, 
but I think, after such a chilly reception, I had 
better go home where I have loving friends 
and relatives to welcome me.” 

“A picnic?” echoed Alice joyously, relax¬ 
ing from her dignity with haste. “Oh, what 
fun! Where? When? Will we all go? And 
shall each one take a picnic lunch?” 

“So,—we boys aren’t the only curious ones 
I see.” Billy’s tone was quizzical, and he 
grinned across at Donald, who was shaking 
with amusement at the sudden change in the 
girls’ manner, for all five had sat up alertly at 
the magic word, “picnic.” 

Reading Billy’s expression rightly, he deftly 
changed the subject as he turned to Polly 
Wiggles, whose face was aglow. 

“I hear you were a heroine. Curly Locks,” 


THE MYSTIC-STAR GIRLS 89 

he said admiringly, “and that you captured a 
midnight prowler last night.” 

“No—er—oh, yes. That is, it was only a tur¬ 
tle,” replied Polly Wiggles quickly. “Shall 
you take the ponies on the picnic, Don?” 

“Well—er, possibly. Are you going to have 
turtle soup for dinner?” 

“Mercy, no!” Jeannette exclaimed, horri¬ 
fied at the idea. “Of course it was Cubbv’s do- 
ings, putting the turtle in our closet, but it gave 
us a dreadful scare. Wiggles most of all. I 
think she was very brave to slam the door shut 
and lock it. Daddy said it took just as much 
courage as if there had really and truly been a 
burglar, ’cause she thought there was.” 

“Now if it had been a snake,” snickered 
Allan as he glanced about at Gabriel, who 
turned very red at a sudden recollection, “it 
could have walked off with the entire house 
before Wiggles would have put a foot out of 
bed. Gay, your pets do seem to make Polly 
Wiggles a lot of trouble.” 

Gabriel looked unhappily at Elizabeth. 


90 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“But I didn’t mean this for a house pet,” he 
remarked with dignity at last. “I’m awfully 
sorry it gave you such a scare, Wiggles, and I 
think you were just a—a brick to do what you 

did.” 

Polly Wiggles' looked very much embar¬ 
rassed at the honest praise in which the others 
heartily joined, and hastened to disclaim the 
chorus of admiring comments on her bravery. 

“It wasn’t anything at a-all,” she stammered 
in blushing confusion, “and I did feel too silly 
when I found after all that fuss, and rousing 
the whole family, that I’d captured a turtle in¬ 
stead of a housebreaker.” She stopped to laugh 
at the ridiculous recollection. 

“Grandfather says that Wiggles was the 
only one with presence of mind,” Jeannette 
continued eagerly. “I snarled all up in the 
covers and shrieked, and Grandma caught up 
a pitcher of ice water that was on the table by 
her bed, to pour over the burglar’s head.” 

“Daddy asked her if she expected it to cool 
him of his desire for the tea-set,” gasped Wig¬ 
gles, wiping her eyes at the remembrance. 


THE MYSTIC-STAR GIRLS 


91 


Then with a quick change of manner she 
turned to Billy again. “Now tell us all about 
the plans for the picnic,” she smilingly re¬ 
quested. 

“Sorry, Polly-Wog, but our plans, like 
yours, are a deep dark secret,—and, besides, 
this picnic is just for boys.” Billy spoke as sol¬ 
emnly as a judge, but an impish twinkle lurked 
in his eyes, as his cousins well knew. They 
watched with startled expressions as, at Billy’s 
signal, the six boys rose with one accord and 
strolled down the steps with casual words of 
farewell. This was turning tables with a ven¬ 
geance. 

“Why, you mean things!” Alice sputtered 
indignantly' after their retreating backs, but 
stopped abruptly at a swift kick from Polly 
Wiggles, who had been sniffing the air with a 
preoccupied expression on her face. 

With quick determination, she jumped to 
her feet. 

“By-by, boys,” she called serenely, with her 
dimples coming into full play. “It’s too bad 
you must hurry. Come along, girls. From the 



92 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

smell, I know that Mandy’s apple turnovers 
are ready for us to sample.” 

For one undecided moment the boys paused 
in their tracks. Jokes were all right, they re¬ 
flected, but, oh, that tantalizing odor of baking 
pastry! It proved much too tempting for them 
all. 

“Say, we’ll compromise,” yelled Billy, mak¬ 
ing a dash kitchenward after the laughing 
girls. “Oh, boy, don’t those turnovers smell 
bully!’’ 


CHAPTER SIX 


POLLY WIGGLES,—COOK 


D own in the kitchen of The Lilacs 
there was a great commotion going 
on, for Polly Wiggles had decided 
to start her cooking-club duties by making a 
cake, so Mandy and Hannah were preparing 
to leave her a clear field, as the little cook in¬ 
sisted upon having the kitchen entirely to her¬ 
self. 

“It won’t be hard to do, I know,” she con¬ 
fided to Jeannette as she scrambled into a ging¬ 
ham dress and searched about vainly for the 
belt, which should have been attached, but 
which seemed to be missing. “I’ve watched 
Mother and Grandma and Aunt Elsie make 

i 

cake oodles of times, and I’m sure I know just 
how.” 

“Then I’ll make a pie next week. I think I’ll 
make a pineapple pie with little dabs of me- 

93 



94 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

ringue on top, they always look so pretty.” 
Jeannette volunteered the information as she 
gazed lazily out of the window of the Forget- 
me-not room, and she spoke as casually as if 
pastry making were an every-day occurrence 
with her. 

Wiggles spun round on her toes, with her 
hairbrush in one hand, as she gave her crinkly 
locks a hasty brush, or what Mandy called “a 
lick and a promise.” 

“Won’t it be fun,” she beamed, “to surprise 
the boys with a real grown-up dinner party 
which we have cooked all by ourselves? They 
are nearly wild with curiosity now, and of 
course we won^ tell them a single thing about 
it until we’re all ready to give it, late in the 
summer. By that time we ought to be able to 
cook lots and lots of scrumptious things.” 

“Yes, we want to be able to have all kinds of 
fancy dishes, like ices, and parfaits, and salmi 
of duck with mushrooms under glass,” Jean¬ 
nette quoted freely from the cook-book in her 
hand. “And, oh, yes, that dark rich fruit cake 
that gives people the tummy-ache. You know, 


POLLY WIGGLES,—COOK 95 

the kind that’s just stuffed with candied cher¬ 
ries, and citron and nuts, and all kinds of lus¬ 
cious things. Grandma made one for Mother 
and Daddy’s wedding anniversary, you re¬ 
member, but they only let us have a teeny bit 
of a nibble. I’m sure the boys would like that. 
I think I’ll make a huge one, so we can each 
have a big, big slice. Won’t the boys open their 
eyes r 

“Yes, and their mouths, too,” remarked her 
sister as she rummaged through her bureau. 

“After I make the pie. I’m going to try some 
of those spun-sugar things next. They always 
look so fascinating, with sugar roses and curli¬ 
cues and strips of angelica on top.” 

“Yes-s—but aren’t they pretty hard to 
make?” For the first time Polly Wiggles’ tone 
was slightly dubious as she sank down on the 
edge of the white rocking-chair to continue 
the discussion. “Do you know, Mandy was 
an awful kill-joy when I told her what we were 
going to do. She said”—Wiggles paused to 
giggle at the remembrance of Mandy’s tossing 
turban and the snort she had given—“that we’d 



96 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

better learn to boil water without scorching it, 
before we tried anything else; and that if we 
really wanted to learn how to cook, we’d better 
let her teach us properly, instead of ‘rampag¬ 
ing around and spoiling good materials.’ 
Those were her very words.” 

“The idea! As if any one couldn’t cook. 
You’d think, to hear both Mother and Mandy 
talk, that there was an art about it. Why, any¬ 
body who knows how to read can follow a rec¬ 
ipe.” Jeannette’s tone was calmly superior, and 

she made a disdainful motion with her head 
that caused her long curls to sway back and 
forth like bell-ropes as she rocked to and fro in 
her low rocker. 

“I’m not going to try anything so very fancy 
to-day.” Polly Wiggles’ tone was slightly apol¬ 
ogetic as she recollected her sister’s high-flown 
ideas. “I thought I’d just try a sponge cake to 
kind of get my hand in. I wanted to make a 
pound cake, but Mother seemed to think I 
ought not to use so much butter on my first at¬ 
tempt, and Mandy said, ‘For land’s sake, 
honey-gal, come down off your high horse.’ I 


POLLY WIGGLES—COOK 97 

told her that we’d hitched our wagon to a star,” 
—Wiggles’ hand fluttered to the badge on her 
dress,—“and she sniffed and grumbled that 
folks who walked with their feet on the earth 
and their heads in the clouds were pretty apt to 
fall and bump their noses.” 

“Marion’s going to make Scotch scones or 
banana fritters this morning, she hasn’t de¬ 
cided which as yet, and Alice is making a 
caramel-fudge pudding. She said we were to 
come over and bring your cake this afternoon, 
and we’d have a regular feast. Isn’t it a shame 
that poor Kitty-cat had to go to the dentist’s? 
That caramel-fudge pudding sounds good to 
me. You brown your sugar in an agate frying- 
pan first. I’d like to try it. Still, I’m so relieved 
to think no one else thought of spun-sugar 
things. I’m so anxious to begin, it seems as if I 
could hardly wait for my turn at the kitchen.” 
Jeannette’s hands fluttered about as she talked, 
as if she were already mixing and stirring. 

“But the cook-books all say that those are 
very difficult to make,” Wiggles began hesi¬ 
tantly. 


98 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“Well-1,1 think lots of those cook-books put 
on airs, ’cause the time Daddy took me to that 
big New York hotel for luncheon last winter, 
when you were in bed with the grippe, they had 
an exhibition of spun-sugar things. I watched 
the chef make them, and he did it just as easily 
as rolling off a log, and never even spotted his 
white suit.” 

“That reminds me.” Polly Wiggles was out 
of her chair like a flash, and pawed wildly 
through the chiffonier drawers until they 
looked as if they had been stirred about with a 
spoon. It was always hard work for Wiggles to 
keep any of her things in order, whereas Jean¬ 
nette could put her hand on any article in the 
dark. 

“Goodness me, where is an apron? I can’t 
cook without one, for I spill more on me than I 
put in the pan.” 

“Take one of Aunt Elsie’s new cretonne 
aprons out of her cedar chest. They’re so good 
and big that they will cover you up from top to 
toe. As long as I can’t be with you. I’ll do my 
helpful deed some other way. I’m going to try 


POLLY WIGGLES,—COOK 99 

a new method of darning Daddy’s socks. I 
thought it out in bed last night, and it will be 
a big help to Mother, for it will save her lots of 
time, ’cause he’s an awfully hard man on socks. 
What recipe will you use?” 

Polly Wiggles gave an absent glance about 
at her sister as she swathed her slender self in 
the enormous cretonne apron hastily “bor¬ 
rowed” without a “by your leave” from Aunt 
Elsie’s hope-chest, and pinned it in place with 
six stout safety-pins. 

“At first I thought I wouldn’t use any. 
Mandy says ‘it’s best to cook out of your 
haid,’ ” she quoted with Mandy’s own accent. 
“Ouch! There, of course I had to prick myself. 
So, I thought I’d make it up as I went along,” 
she continued sotto voce, with her finger in her 
mouth. “But then I decided I’d invent it next 
time, and use the recipe out of this ‘Young 
Bride’s Cooking-Book.’ ” As she spoke she held 
up for her sister’s inspection an attractive book 
bound in white kid with gilt lettering, and 
looking, in its dainty binding, as unlike a cook¬ 
book as anything that could be imagined. With 


4 

« 




100 POLLY fVIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

a flip of her finger she turned to a colored- 
plate illustration of a golden-brown sponge 
cake on a silver dish, and gazed at it lovingly 
while Jet looked over her shoulder to admire. 
“I found the cook-book in Aunt Elsie’s hope- 
chest, too. Wasn’t that queer? Why do you 
s’pose she got it? So I thought as long as I was 
borrowing her apron, I might as well borrow 
the book too. I don’t s’pose the cake will taste 
quite so good as if I made up a recipe of my 
own, but it will have to do.” 

Then, as Jeannette trailed out in search of 
her mother’s mending-basket, Polly Wiggles 
vanished down the back stairway. 

The big sunny kitchen was very pleasant. 
There were crisp blue-and-white gingham cur¬ 
tains fluttering at the windows, while through 
the glass doors of the pantry closet gleamed the 
old-fashioned blue-willow china that was al¬ 
ways used for breakfasts and luncheons in 
place of the more formal gold-banded ware 
that Grandmother reserved for dinner-time 
alone. Mandy had left everything in apple-pie 
order, and all the things that she thought her 


POLLY WIGGLES,—COOK loi 

beloved Miss Wiggles would need had been 
carefully placed on the porcelain-topped table 
in readiness for her. 

“Flour, baking-powder, eggs, and milk,” 
enumerated Polly Wiggles. “She’s even left a 
recipe-book here in plain sight, and the big 
blue mixing-bowl. Now to grease the cake tin, 
and get the sugar which she forgot, and I’m all 
ready to begin.” 

Thanks to the many hours Polly Wiggles 
had spent in the kitchen watching her grand¬ 
mother or mother on baking days, she had a 
pretty good idea of what to do. True, in her 
hurry the flour was not sifted, nor any salt nor 
flavoring extract added to the other ingredi¬ 
ents,—but then we all make mistakes. 

“O dear!” she murmured distractedly as she 
flew wildly about the kitchen in search of a 
large spoon. “I’ve gone and beaten the yolks 
and whites of the eggs together instead of sep¬ 
arately. Guess I’d better put them in a bowl in 
the ice-box and separate some others. I’ve seen 
Mandy do it lots of times, and it’s always looked 
like such fun tossing them back and forth from 


102 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

one shell to the other, and letting the white part 
dribble out. I’ve always wanted to try.” 

Fifteen minutes later she gazed at the heap¬ 
ing pile of egg-shells in the sink with startled 
eyes, as with sticky fingers she wearily pushed 
back the curls that would get in her way. There 
was a dab of flour on one flushed cheek and a 
black smut on the end of her nose, while drib¬ 
bles of yellow egg-yolk trickled down Aunt 
Elsie’s pretty new apron,—but she was quite 
unconscious of her appearance. 

What she was conscious of, was the fact that 
she had used nine eggs, and that three deco¬ 
rated the floor in a spattered trail, two smeared 
down the front of her apron, while the man¬ 
gled remains of four,—whites, yolks, and 
shells, all mixed together,—reposed in the sink 
where they had skidded from her unpractised 
fingers. 

“Horrid things!” she sputtered indignantly, 
viewing the decorated floor ruefully, and gin¬ 
gerly giving it a hasty mop with one of Man- 
dy’s best glass towels. “I never saw such slip¬ 
pery eggs in my life. You’d think they’d been 



POLLY WIGGLES,—COOK 103 

greased. Mandy always broke them in half 
just as easily, and it didn’t look like anything 
at all to do when she tossed them back and forth 
from one half of the egg-shell to the other. 
Every time I cracked one it squashed, and I do 
believe you need to be like the juggler in the 
circus to jiggle them back and forth without 
giving yourself a shower-bath. I don’t care if 
that cook-book does say, ‘separated’; I don’t 
dare use any more eggs, and this is one sponge 
cake that will have to have the eggs beaten to¬ 
gether. I don’t see what difference it makes, 
anyway. They’re all mixed together finally.” 

For the first time Polly Wiggles began to 
realize that delicious dinners and appetizing 
luncheons did not appear on any one’s table 
by magic; that each dainty dish concocted was 
accomplished by the work of skilled and prac¬ 
tised hands, and that all who could read rec¬ 
ipes were not cooks by any means. 

Fortunately everything else went fairly well, 
although in her haste she could not find the 
granulated sugar. 

As she did not wish to call Mandy in to view 


104 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

the kitchen in its upset condition, she used in¬ 
stead the big bag of lumpy confectioner’s 
sugar that she found on the shelf in the kitchen 
closet. 

“It won’t make a bit of difference,’’ she re¬ 
flected cheerfully while she carefully rolled 
out the lumps with a rolling-pin, as she had 
seen her mother do many times. “It will just 
make a finer-textured cake. I’ve heard Aunt 
Elsie say that lots of times, and I know she al¬ 
ways uses confectioner’s sugar for those deli¬ 
cious little almond cakes she makes, and 
they’re smooth as velvet.’’ 

With careful hands she measured out the 
flour. “There,’.’ she beamed happily as she beat 
the yellow batter energetically, “this does 
look just as good as Grandma’s, every bit.’’ 

When Donald, who had been vainly search¬ 
ing all over the first floor of The Lilacs to find 
the girls, popped his head through the pantry 
door a little later, he found a rather dishevelled- 
looking little cook perched on the edge of one 
of the kitchen chairs, watching the clock with 
one eye and the oven with the other. 


POLLY WIGGLES,—COOK 105 

“You can’t stay here,” she informed him 
hastily, giving a start of astonishment as he 
suddenly appeared at her elbow, “for I’m busy 
making a cake for luncheon.” 

“Yum-yum. Can’t I help?” 

Donald’s tone was most appealing, but in 
spite of the pleading glance of his brown eyes 
that coaxed her to say “yes,” Polly Wiggles 
remained firm. 

“I can’t have my mind dis-distracted,” she 
frowned earnestly as her eyes sought the clock 
again, “and you get in my way.” 

“That’s not polite. And, anyway, the 
kitchen’s so large that I shouldn’t think I’d 
exactly be underfoot,” Donald made reply in 
deeply injured tones as he perched himself on 
the window-sill and prepared to argue the 
point. “And then, too. I’m of a naturally help¬ 
ful disposition.” 

“Then empty those egg-shells into the 
garbage-pail, and find me a broom-straw.” 
Polly Wiggles gave her orders crisply, and 
there was a little twinkle in her eye as she 
glanced from Donald’s immaculate white- 


io6 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

linen knickers to the dripping sink-strainer 
in which the egg-shells were piled high. 

“Certainly, ma’am; at your service. But why 
one solitary broom-straw? Wouldn’t you 
rather have the whole broom? The floor looks 
as if the broom and a little elbow-grease were 
badly needed.’’ Donald’s gaze swept about the 
spattered linoleum as he spoke, while he 
emptied the egg-shells with an unconcerned 
air. 

“Silly! The broom-straw is to poke into the 
cake to see if it’s done.’’ 

“Oh, I beg your pardon. Well,—here’s your 
straw, and if I mop up your floor for you. 
Curly Locks, will you give me a piece of the 
cake when it’s done?’’ 

Polly Wiggles gave him a grateful glance, 
and then her eyes swept downward over his 
woolen golf hose and polished oxfords. 

“It’s ever so kind of you to offer, Don,” she 
replied with a smile, “for Mother said I had to 
clear up if I mussed the kitchen. But imagine 
you mopping up the kitchen floor with those 
sporty oxfords.” 



POLLY WIGGLES,—COOK 107 

“I don’t expect to do my cleaning with the 
oxfords, Miss Wiggles. I shall use a mop,” 
Donald returned with a teasing grin as he 
kilted Mandy’s blue-checked apron about his 
waist and set to work with a will. 

Twenty minutes later Polly Wiggles sur¬ 
veyed a span-clean floor with appreciative 
eyes, while Donald removed the apron and 
scrubbed his hands vigorously at the sink. 

“I’m due over at Billy’s for a game of tennis 
in ten minutes,” he said, raising his voice so it 
could be heard above the running water, “but 
don’t forget you’re to save me a big slice of that 
cake.” 

Polly Wiggles jumped up hastily, broom- 
straw in hand. 

“I’ll look at it before you go,” she volun¬ 
teered, turning to pick up a pot-holder. “It 
ought to be getting brown by now, for it’s been 
in the oven half an hour.” 

Donald’s eyes suddenly widened as he 
lightly touched the oven door. Then he shot a 
hesitant glance toward the small cook. 

“S-say, Wiggles,” he stammered with 


io8 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

heightened color, “but shouldn’t you have 
lighted your oven?” 

Two bright spots of color blazed in Eliza¬ 
beth’s cheeks as the pot-holder fell to the floor 
from her nerveless hand, and promptly rolled 
under the sink. 

With the air of a tragedy queen she stretched 
out her hand for the matches, and Donald, who 
had been eyeing her uneasily, decided it would 
be wiser to depart. He knew when to tease and 
when not to tease, and though a laughing re¬ 
mark trembled on his lips, he judged it was a 
time when silence was golden. So with a cas¬ 
ual, “See you later,” he swung himself over the 
window-sill and went whistling around the side 
of the house. 

“To think I’d forget to light the oven!” 
Polly Wiggles fumed, giving the retrieved pot- 
holder an impatient shake. “O dear! What a 
long, 1-o-n-g morning this has been. It seems 
like a week, and now I’ll have to wait all over 
again.” 

But at last, when her patience was nearly ex¬ 
hausted, a hasty peep inside the oven door 



Donald kilted Mandy’s blue-checked apron about his 

WAIST AND SET TO WORK WITH A WILL.—Page 














































POLLY WIGGLES,—COOK 109 

showed a delicately browned cake, and with 
careful hands she removed it to the table. 

“I don’t see why they call it a sponge cake,” 
she reflected as she removed it from the pan. 
“Why, it seems to me it weighs an awful lot. 
I think marble or granite cake would have 
been a lots better name for it. It certainly is the 
solidest cake I ever felt. Guess that was a poor 
recipe.” 

Still, when it was frosted with the icing that 
Aunt Elsie always used, made from the rest of 
the confectioner’s sugar, flavoring, and milk, 
it looked so dazzingly white and tempting that 
the tired little cook quite beamed as she placed 
it in the pantry and then laboriously washed 
the many pots and pans that she had used. 

“Dear me, I don’t think cooking’s so easy 
after all,” she murmured wearily as she hung 
up her dish-towel and pushed back her hair 
with damp, sudsy hands. “I feel lots tireder 
than I do when I play hop-scotch or tag, or 
jump rope.” 

Then, hearing her grandfather’s voice up¬ 
stairs, and knowing that Mandy was anxious 


no POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 


to get in the kitchen to prepare luncheon, she 
slipped off her eggy apron, and with it over her 
arm, skipped on up the back staircase, anxious 
to report her morning’s progress to Jeannette. 


CHAPTER SEVEN 

SOCKS AND SPONGE CAKE 

“"W THY, Polly Wiggles, that is a beau- 
%/%/ tiful-looking cake,” exclaimed 
» ▼ Mrs. Eaton admiringly as she 
seated herself at the luncheon table and viewed 
with pleased surprise the dazzling white- 
frosted cake which the tired little cook had 
carefully placed on a silver cake-plate and put 
in a prominent place on the serving-table 
where all the family could admire it. 

“It ought to have its picture taken,” declared 
Grandfather Carr, cocking an ecstatic eye at 
its snowy perfection. Then, turning to Grand¬ 
mother Carr, he raised a quizzical eyebrow. 
“I really don’t believe I want any luncheon, 
Elizabeth,” he announced blandly, “because 
I wish to do full justice to that masterpiece of 
Woggsie’s, and it would never do to fill up on 
plain every-day food like veal loaf and baked 
potatoes.” 


Ill 


112 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“Now, David Carr, you bad boy,” exclaimed 
Grandmother in much the same tone she would 
have used to Cubby, “not one little snip of 
frosting you may taste unless you eat a good 
luncheon first.” Her tone was most severe, but 
her eyes laughed at her husband’s nonsense. 

Cubby, who had been taking in every word, 
pushed back her plate so hastily that her baked 
potato went sailing across the cloth. 

“I don’t want any ’tato, either,” she an¬ 
nounced quickly. “I’d rawer wait and eat 
Wiggles’ cake.” She folded her hands calmly, 
leaned back in her high-chair, and glanced 
about the table with her most cherubic smile. 

Mrs. Eaton rescued the potato and pushed 
Cubby’s plate back in place before her. 

“See, I’ll fix it just the way you like it, with 
lots of butter,” she said quietly as she rang the 
bell for Elannah. “Now be a good girl. Cubby, 
and eat your luncheon.” 

The wee bear rumpled her golden curls re- 
belliously. 

“I don’t want to be a good gur-rl,” she an¬ 
nounced with an angelic smile and a side 


SOCKS AND SPONGE CAKE 


”3 

glance at her grandfather. “I wants to be a bad 
boy, like my dear Pampa.” 

“There, you see,” murmured Mrs. Carr in a 
reproving tone, with a glance at Grandpa in 
which there was an “I-told-you-so” expression, 
“you’ll have to eat a good luncheon.” 

Mr. Carr picked up his fork with a resigned 
look upon his face. “We’re out of luck. Cub,” 
he whispered confidentially in his small grand¬ 
daughter’s ear, “so we’d better both be good 
boys and do as we’re told, or else we’ll not get 
any cake at all.” And as he started his luncheon 
with zest. Cubby’s potato was soon vanishing, 
too. 

Luncheon was half over before Dr. Eaton 
appeared, and the children greeted his arrival 
with cries of delight, for he was a busy man, 
and it was not always possible for him to get 
home at meal time. There was a funny twinkle 
in his eye as he slipped into his seat and 
glanced across the table at his wife. 

“Dear,” he began, as he put a lump of sugar 
in his coffee, “do you know why I’m a very 
vain man?” 


114 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

Mrs. Eaton raised puzzled eyes to her hus¬ 
band’s mirthful face. 

“Is it a riddle?” she inquired, with a shake 
of her head at Cubby, who was reaching for 
the sugar-bowl. “I’m afraid I’m not very clever 
at riddles.” 

“Well,—it’s a riddle to me,” returned Dr. 
Eaton with a quickly repressed smile; “a deep, 
dark mystery. We seem to be having lots of 
mysteries going on this summer.” 

“What is it. Daddy? I love mysteries,” 
beamed Polly Wiggles, pausing with her fork 
half raised to ask eager questions. “Do tell us 
the answer and not keep us guessing. Why 
are you a vain man?” 

“Because I’m all stuck up.” Dr. Daddy’s 
tone was solemn as his eye rested on the 
middle-sized bear with an intent look. But it 
was plain to be seen that Polly Wiggles did not 
grasp the point at all, for she looked utterly 
blank, and his glance moved on to his oldest 
daughter, who had given a startled gasp. 

Jeannette, with a very red face, put down 
her fork suddenly. 


SOCKS AND SPONGE CAKE 


“S 

“Did it—did it—she began in an agitated 
tone, as they all gazed in surprise at her scarlet 
face. 

“It did.” Dr. Eaton’s tone was grim, al¬ 
though his lips twitched. 

“What are you two talking about?” de¬ 
manded Aunt Elsie curiously. “You certainly 
sound mysterious enough. Is it a secret?” 

“It’s just—just that I mended some of 
Daddy’s socks,” stated Jeannette incoher¬ 
ently. “I—I thought it would help Mother. 
Then, a-after they were done I rolled them 
up and put them in his chifforobe drawer. You 
see, I—I tried a new method. It was one of the 
helpful deeds for our club.” 

“Jet, your helpful deed is strongly reminis¬ 
cent of some of Cubby’s ways of helping. 
After this, my dear, stick to the good old- 
fashioned methods of darning, instead of hav¬ 
ing the socks stick to me.” Then, meeting the 
bewildered glances of the other members of 
the family, he explained. 

“I dashed in here about an hour ago. I had 
torn a big hole in my sock as I got out of the 



ii6 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

car, and as I had a consultation with Dr. Dodd 
in fifteen minutes, and did not care to appear 
in holey hose, I grabbed a rolled-up pair from 
the dresser-drawer and put them on. Lo and 
behold, in about ten minutes the socks were 
stuck fast to my feet in each place there was a 
darn, as if they had grown fast. Tell me 
quickly. Jet, did you use glue,—or mucilage?” 

Jet looked ready to cry at the failure of her 
plan. 

“I—I used adhesive tape,” she admitted so¬ 
berly, looking very dejected indeed. “It always 
took Mother so long to mend the socks and 
stockings each week, that I thought this would 
be a fine way. It—it was my own invention.” 

“It sounds like it,” her grandfather broke in 
with an irrepressible chuckle. “But do explain 
your method. I am curious.” 

Jeannette drew a long breath and then 
plunged in recklessly. “I bridged over the 
large holes with adhesive tape to make a solid 
foundation first,” she explained with dignity, 
“and then I put a light network of stitches 



SOCKS AND SPONGE CAKE 


117 

over the top. I’m sure that it looked very well.” 

“But, oh, how it felt!” groaned Dr. Eaton 
with a rueful shake of his head. “Do you un¬ 
derstand now, when I say that I am a stuck-up 
man? Imagine adhesive tape in socks!” 

“My ’tato’s al-1-1 gone,” chanted Cubby, 
who had been casting longing glances over 
her shoulder toward the serving-table, “and I 
want a dreat big piece of cake, ’bout so big,” 
and as Hannah removed the plates, she meas¬ 
ured olf a slice with her hands that would have 
included the entire cake. 

“I wish I’d tried cooking instead of mend¬ 
ing,” mourned Jeannette as she gazed hun¬ 
grily at the tempting cake which Hannah 
placed before Mrs. Eaton. “I think that looks 
perfectly delicious, Woggsie.” 

“Well, it’s lots more work to cook than I 
thought it would be,” Polly Wiggles admitted 
honestly; “and if it hadn’t been for Donald, I 
don’t believe I’d have been cleared up yet. He 
mopped the kitchen floor for me, and—” She 
broke off suddenly at a muffled exclamation of 


ii8 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

horror from the pantry, where Mandy was 
hovering about, anxious to see the cutting of 
“Miss Wiggles’ cake.” 

“Laws-a-massy,” she moaned, popping her 
turbaned head through the pantry door. “You 
didn’t let Prince Donald wipe up mah kitchen 
floo’, did you, honey?” 

“Why, of course I did. He’s only a boy, and 
it didn’t hurt him to do it, any more than it 
would have hurt me,” Polly Wiggles retorted 
serenely. “He even got down on his hands and 
knees and scrubbed,” she added impishly, en¬ 
joying to the utmost Mandy’s shocked expres¬ 
sion. “You should have seen him. He had on 
your old apron so as not to spoil his knickers, 
and he did look too funny. I don’t believe he 
ever scrubbed a floor before in his life, but he 
certainly got it clean. That’s one thing I like 
about Donald.” 

“You mean his ability as a floor-mopper?” 
inquired her grandfather teasingly. 

“Oh, Grandpa, of course not. I mean ’cause 
he’ll always pitch in and do anything. But, oh, 
Mandy, pl-lease don’t call him ‘Prince’ just 


SOCKS AND SPONGE CAKE 


119 

’cause he’s lived abroad. He isn’t one, really, 
and it sounds so funny, and we’d feel dread¬ 
fully silly if he ever heard that we pretended 
about a Prince Charming living at White 
Birches.” 

Mandy shook a stubborn head. 

“Now, Miss Wiggles, Ah does most things 
to please you, but Ah’s not going to make any 
rash promises. He looks like a prince, he 
walks, like a prince, and Prince Donald he’ll 
always be to old Mandy, it’s most likely.” 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with it, 
children, if Mandy feels that way,” laughed 
Mrs. Eaton as she picked up the cake-knife. 
“Now, Polly Wiggles, as you are chef of this 
marvelous creation. I’ll give you your slice 
first, although it’s really a shame to cut into 
this gorgeous frosting.” 

“I made it by Aunt Elsie’s frosting-recipe,” 
smiled the little cook modestly, “and it did turn 
out pretty good, though the sugar was dread¬ 
fully lumpy. I had to roll every single bit of 
it out.” Her tone was tragic, and she eyed un¬ 
easily the silver cake-knife which dented but 


120 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

did not cut through the smooth, glossy-white 
surface, although her mother’s cheeks flushed 
with the effort. 

“It doesn’t seem to act just like Aunt Elsie’s 
icing, though,” she murmured with a look of 
distress, 

“Here, try a hatchet,” advised her grand¬ 
father gravely as he passed the carving-knife 
across the table. 

Polly Wiggles vainly strove to look uncon¬ 
cerned as, with much effort, several slices were 
finally “carved.” 

“It’s a sponge cake,” she announced tremu¬ 
lously as she inspected her slice with dubious 
eyes, “but it doesn’t seem to have holes in it like 
Mother’s and Grandmother’s sponge cakes al¬ 
ways have. It’s, well—er—rather solid.” 

“Maybe you fastened the holes together with 
adhesive tape and bridged over the top with a 
light sprinkling of flour,” suggested Dr. 
Daddy as he viewed the slice on his plate spec¬ 
ulatively and then heroically took a big 
mouthful. 


SOCKS AND SPONGE CAKE 121 

Polly Wiggles eyed him uncertainly, 

“How—how is it, Daddy?” she inquired 
with a suspicious catch in her voice. 

With the light of determination in his eyes, 
Grandfather Carr followed suit, and then with 
a hasty sputter he raised his napkin to his lips 
and took a long, long drink of water, while Dr. 
Eaton did the same. 

“Wiggles, my dear child,” he gasped as soon 
as he could speak. “Honesty compels me to ad¬ 
mit that it is evidently put together with a firm 
hand. May I ask, my dear, what is in it, and, 
above all else, what composes that truly re¬ 
markable icing?” 

“Why, sugar, to be sure, and milk and fla¬ 
voring. I used all that lumpy confectioner’s 
sugar that I found in a paper bag in the closet.” 

From the pantry there came the crash of a 
breaking plate followed by Mandy’s deep 
chuckle. 

“Foh de land’s sakes. Miss Wiggles, dat 
wasn’t sugah,” she snorted, standing with arms 
akimbo in the doorway and surveying the 


122 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

amazed group at the table with rolling eyes. 
“Dat was mah starch, honey, foh starching 
clothes. Well, never in mah horned days did 
Ah hear of making cake with starch. What 
will you chilluns do next?” 

“Oh, Mandy,” wailed Polly Wiggles in hor¬ 
rified tones, while two big tears sprang to her 
eyes, and to the sympathetic although amused 
group at the table it looked as if a shower were 
brewing. 

It was pretty hard, after working all morn¬ 
ing, to have a starchy cake as a result, but 
Polly Wiggles could always see the funny side 
of anything, even when the joke was on her¬ 
self. So with an April change of countenance 
her dimples popped into view and her wail 
turned into a blithe giggle in which the entire 
family joined lustily. 

“So my daughter thought I needed some 
starch put in me,—eh?” chuckled Dr. Eaton 
as he pinched the flushed cheek on which 
slight traces of flour were still visible. 

“It looks lovely, anyway,” put in Jeannette 
loyally, patting her sister’s hand, “and it wasn’t 


SOCKS AND SPONGE CAKE 


123 


half so bad as my sock-darning. But hasn’t this 
been an awful morning? I do wonder why 
we’re so very unlucky.” 

Aunt Elsie opened her lips to speak, glanced 
quickly about at her two thoughtful nieces, 
and then sat back quietly without saying any¬ 
thing; but Polly Wiggles had noticed the ex¬ 
pression on her face. 

“Why was it. Aunt Elsie?” she coaxed with 
an imploring look. “I see by your ’spression 
that you think you know the reason why we’re 
so misfortunate.” 

Aunt Elsie smiled across at the two eager 
faces turned toward her. 

“It was because you flew too high,” she said 
seriously, with a kind look at the chagrined 
children. “It’s fine, chickabiddies, to hitch 
your wagon to a star, but you want to be sure 
that you know how to make the star move first, 
or else your wagon will never go forward an 
inch. I was passing through the hall, and I 
heard Jet planning to make spun-sugar dain¬ 
ties and salmi of duck, and yet she really 
doesn’t know how to boil an egg or cook a strip 


124 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

of bacon. You have to learn how to do simple 
things correctly before you can tackle big 
ones. Don’t you remember when I first started 
to study singing, how I had to practise exer¬ 
cises for a year before I had any songs at all? 
I had to get the plain foundation before I 
could start any of the fancy frills, and though 
I longed for solos, I had to plug away day after 
day on scales and arpeggios and prosaic things 
like that. Do you see what I mean?” 

Jeannette’s cheeks were very red, but she 
looked up with an intent glance into her aunt’s 
kind blue eyes. ^ 

“I—I think I see what you mean,” she re¬ 
turned slowly. “For us to try all those fancy 
things without even knowing how to do the 
very simplest ones, would be just as silly as it 
would be to think we could do multiplication 
or subtraction before we knew how to count.” 

“Good for you. Jet; that’s it exactly,” agreed 
her father quickly. “And another thing. You 
didn’t expect to do multiplication or subtrac¬ 
tion without being taught, did you?” 

“Why, no, of course not. Daddy. That’s the 



SOCKS AND SPONGE CAKE 


125 


reason we go to school,—to learn,” Wiggles 
replied, looking at her father with surprise. 

“Exactly. Yet you thought that without any 
experience you could go into the kitchen and 
make dainties that would rival those of Mandy, 
who has cooked for many, many years.” 

“We thought by following recipes,” faltered 
Jeannette with a crestfallen air. 

“There’s an old saying. Jet, that recipes have 
to be mixed with brains, and how would you 
children, who have never handled a frying-pan 
or rolling-pin in your lives, know how to un¬ 
derstand what the recipes mean?” 

Polly Wiggles’ blue eyes widened in aston¬ 
ishment. “Why, we can read. Daddy,” she de¬ 
clared earnestly, “and we thought that by do¬ 
ing just what the book said—” Her voice 
trailed off into silence at the expression on her 
father’s face. 

“What does ‘cream the butter and sugar’ 
mean?” he inquired rapidly. 

“Why—er, add the cream to the butter and 
sugar,” replied Jeannette. 

“But it doesn’t,” Grandmother Carr and 




126 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 


Mrs. Eaton exclaimed together. “It means to 
blend the sugar and butter together smoothly.” 
“Oh.” 

“How do you separate eggs?” demanded 
Dr. Eaton again, with a funny little look at 
Elizabeth’s dress, on the sleeve of which there 
were suspicious yellow stains. 

Wiggles flushed to the crinkly curls on her 
forehead, and gave a shamefaced smile. 

“I know the answer to that,—and from ex¬ 
perience. You squash ’em all over you, and 
spatter the rest on the floor,—when you don’t 
know how,” she confessed honestly. “I ruined 
nine eggs. Mother, and I’m dreadfully sorry 
that I did so.” 

“Do you know how to spin a thread of 
sugar?” asked Dr. Eaton as he helped Cubby 
down from her high-chair. 

“Spin sugar?” echoed Jeannette with a star¬ 
tled look. “Why, Daddy, I thought you spun at 
a spinning-wheel.” 

“Yet, Jet, if you had made spun-sugar dain¬ 
ties, you would have had to know how,—and it 


SOCKS AND SPONGE CAKE 


127 


has nothing to do with a spinning-wheel at 
all.” 

“Mother wanted us to let Mandy teach us,” 
admitted Jeannette ruefully, “but we were so 
stubborn that we wouldn’t have any help. I was 
the worst.” 

“No, you weren’t,” chimed in Polly Wig¬ 
gles earnestly as she ruffled her curls until they 
stood out in all directions. “I was so—er— 
smarty-Alec that I thought a sponge cake was 
nothing at all to make. Whew, I worked so'hard 
tossing those eggs that my arm felt lame and 
my disposition felt lamer. Why, when Donald 
came in and helped me, I felt real snappy at 
first. Goodness me, that reminds me, that I 
promised to save a piece of cake for him be¬ 
cause he mopped the kitchen, but if he wants 
to live until morning, he’d better not even look 
at it. If ever I feel high and mighty and sure 
of myself again, please somebody murmur 
‘sponge cake’ in my ear.” 

“And ‘socks’ in mine,” added Jeannette, 
“and I’ll just wilt. After this attempt I’ll learn 




128 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

how really to darn and mend from Grandma, 
and, instead of hindering. I’ll help Mother by 
doing my own properly. Will you teach me. 
Grandma?” 

“And me, too?” put in Polly Wiggles. 

“With pleasure. We’ll have a sewing-class 
on the porch two afternoons a week from one 
till two, all during vacation.” 

“And maybe Mandy will teach us how to 
cook, even if we did refuse to let her when she 
offered before,” Polly Wiggles remarked 
thoughtfully. “Do you suppose she would 
teach the whole club. Mother?” 

“I know she would. She has suggested it sev¬ 
eral times to me, but you were both so very de¬ 
cided about doing your cooking by—well— 
‘by self,’ to borrow Cubby’s expression, that I 
thought it would be better to let you work it out 
for yourselves and see what happened,” Mrs. 
Eaton replied with her quiet smile. 

“And you were pretty sure that the results 
would be a mess,” Polly Wiggles nodded 
shrewdly. “I know by the smile in your eyes. 
You always say ‘that pride goeth before a fall,’ 




SOCKS AND SPONGE CAKE 


129 

and I know, with that starchy cake to look at, 
that my pride has had an awful tumble. Of 
course the starch was an accident, but, as Aunt 
Elsie said the other day when I joggled the ink, 
I certainly have a ‘proclivity for accidents.’ ” 

Polly Wiggles’ tone was very penitent, and 
she was not prepared for the shout that greeted 
her remark. 

“A propensity for accidents, not a procliv¬ 
ity,” chuckled her grandfather. “Look up the 
difference in the dictionary, my dear.” 

“And remember,” finished Dr. Eaton as he 
pushed back his chair and rose, “that in order 
to be successful, everything is in the knowing 
how to do things. Without work, nothing is 
ever gained that is worth gaining. You both 
said, ‘We want to cook.’ Then you looked up 
recipes, and thought, by following directions, 
that you could be accomplished chefs without 
work or effort. Imagine if I had said, ‘I want to 
be a doctor,’ and had gone out, bought a med¬ 
ical book and read it, and then had felt qual¬ 
ified to operate on patients or dose them when 
ill.” 


130 POLLY fVlGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“Oh, Daddy!” 

Dr. Eaton laughed at the shocked protest, 
but back of his laughter there was real seri¬ 
ousness. 

“Instead,” he said slowly as he paused in the 
doorway, “I plugged away through eight years 
of college and medical school, and then had to 
be a hospital interne before I was qualified to 
practice. Now I want you both to grow up to 
be accomplished young ladies, and, in addition 
to music and languages and the other pretty 
frills, I want you to master the old-fashioned 
art of cooking. So stick to Mandy’s instruc¬ 
tions, kiddies, even if you don’t make fancy 
dabs, at first, and by the end of the summer you 
will be able to prepare a simple meal without 
poisoning any one. Then, by the time you are 
real grown-up young ladies, you will be qual¬ 
ified to look after the home if Mother wants a 
vacation.” 

“Oh, Daddy, we’ll willingly boil water and 
do nothing else just as long as Mandy says,” 
Jeannette murmured meekly, looking the pic¬ 
ture of penitence. 


SOCKS AND SPONGE CAKE 131 

“Yes, and separate eggs, too, and—and 
scrub floors if we have to,” sighed Polly Wig¬ 
gles with an affectionate kiss. “Anyway,” she 
added with a twinkle, “Donald would prob¬ 
ably help with the floors.” 

“And speaking of scrubbing,” broke in 
Mrs. Eaton as she shooed Polly Wiggles up 
the stairway, “from the looks of your wild¬ 
looking mop of hair, daughter, I think we’ll 
begin on that,—at once.” 


CHAPTER EIGHT 


PRISONERS AT THE BAR 



ELL, I’m certainly glad that’s 
over. How I do hate to have my 
hair shampooed. And when 


Mother went to comb it out afterward, oh-h, 
how it pulled.” 

Jeannette looked up from the black slipper 
she was buttoning, and inspected her sister 
with a giggle as she burst through the door of 
the Forget-me-not room. She was adjusting a 
strap over her shoulder as she came, and she 
whirled about on her toes to exhibit every dark 
curl in shining order before snapping her 
pink-enamel barrette in place. 

‘T don’t wonder you’re glad. Your hair’s so 
thick and crinkly that it’s dreadful work get- 

4 

ting the snarls out. ’Scuse my giggles, but your 
curls do look too funny. Wiggles. They’re 
what Daddy always calls your ‘bow-legged’ 


curls.” 


132 


PRISONERS AT THE BAR 


133 


Polly Wiggles spun around to look criti¬ 
cally at herself in the mirror, and she couldn’t 
help joining in her sister’s laughter at sight of 
her own reflection. Her mother had combed 
her hair when it was still damp, and conse¬ 
quently each thick curl “toed in” at a rakish 
angle that warranted her father’s teasing de¬ 
scription. 

“Never mind. They’ll be dry by the time I’m 
ready, and then I won’t look so much like Sis 
Hopkins,” she returned comfortably, slipping 
over her head the dress which had been placed 
in readiness on the bed by her thoughtful 
sister. 

This done, she flew about the room, gather¬ 
ing up scattered odds and ends of her clothing 
and keeping up a running stream of merry 
chatter as she restored the room to order. 

Jet, from the dressing-table where she was 
giving a last polish to her pink finger-nails, is¬ 
sued her orders like a General, and saw that her 
harum-scarum sister put things away properly. 
For Mrs. Eaton insisted upon the girls keep¬ 
ing a tidy room, and although the middle-sized 


134 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

bear was willing, and always meant to put 
things in place, her haphazard ways were a 
real trial to neat Jeannette, who had found out 
by experience that the best plan was to tell her 
sister just exactly what to do, and then it would 
be done. 

It wasn’t that Wiggles meant to be careless. 
O dear, no! Her intentions were the best in 
the world, but shades were apt to be drawn at 
all different angles in the room because she 
had been admiring the sunset from each win¬ 
dow in turn. When some one reminded her, 
she would look up contritely and say: “I’m so 
sorry, I forgot all about them. But you see, I 
saw those lovely pink roses in the garden just 
asking to be picked, and I fixed them in a bowl 
in Aunt Elsie’s room.” And there they would 
be, to be sure, completing the color scheme of 
the pretty room, and filling the air with fra¬ 
grance. But the scissors would be gone from 
the mending-basket, and would probably be 
found later out on the lawn, and drops of spat¬ 
tered water and fallen petals would surround 
the bowl, leaving a visible reminder that Polly 


PRISONERS AT THE BAR 


I 3 S 

Wiggles had flown to some other task before 
that one was completed. 

Jet was just the opposite. She had a place for 
everything, and wanted everything in it, as her 
grandfather chuckled after he had painstak¬ 
ingly, three times in one morning, carried back 
his ash-tray to a nook on the porch, after Jean¬ 
nette had carefully put it in place on the 
smoking-stand in the library. So the sisters all 
unconsciously corrected each other’s faults, 
and Mrs. Eaton saw that the give and take of 
rooming together was helping Polly Wiggles 
mend some of her careless ways and breaking 
Jet of many fussy traits. 

Wiggles made short work of picking up. 
Dresses were whisked into closets, hats whirled 
into boxes, and ribbons popped into bureau 
drawers in double-quick order. “Why fuss 
so?” she inquired, opening mischievous blue 
eyes at her sister when that particular young 
lady objected that her towel was not folded in 
its original creases, and calmly insisted that it 
be done over. “Oh, Jet, what a dear grand¬ 
mother you will make. I can just ’magine the 


136 POLLY. WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

tidy house you’ll have, with everything in it 
just so. All the towels will be in proper creases, 
and all the dresses will be on hangers, and all 
the shoes on shoe-trees,” she continued dream¬ 
ily as she sank down on a chair with the towel 
in her hand, while her imagination kindled 
and ran riot at the scene she visualized. “All 
the shades will be even, and the counterpanes 
smooth, and the bureaus will have every pin 
in place-” 

“Except when you visit me,” cut in her sis¬ 
ter with a laugh at the picture painted of her, 
“and then everything will be-” 

“Topsy-turvy and higgledy-piggledy,” be¬ 
moaned Polly Wiggles with a rueful wag of 
her dusky curls as she gave her sister an affec¬ 
tionate look. 

Jeannette, with a last polish to her finger¬ 
nails, gave the little clock on the white-wicker 
desk a startled glance, and jumped to her feet. 

“My goodness, look at the time,” she gasped. 
“Do hurry. Wiggles, and fold that towel and 
get ready to go. I’m so anxious to see how 
Alice’s cooking has turned out that I can 




PRISONERS AT THE BAR 


137 

hardly wait to get over to Sweet Briar. Are you 
nearly ready?” 

“In a jiffy. Just as soon as I find my pink 
beads. Whatever did I do with them? I know 
I put them in a perfectly safe place, and now I 
don’t remember where the place was,” Polly 
Wiggles responded as she scrambled obedi¬ 
ently to hang the towel away and then searched 
frantically through the top drawer of her bu¬ 
reau. “There! I’ve found them. Now we can go 
right away. Hurry up. I’ll race you to the pi¬ 
azza.” And clasping the pretty pearls about 
her throat as she spoke, she flew after Jean¬ 
nette, who had already started down the stairs 
two at a time. 

It was just at that moment that Polly Wig¬ 
gles’ eyes fell on a cretonne apron, carelessly 
flung over the back of a chair, and at sight of 
it a sober expression crossed her merry face. 

She felt far from comfortable as she held it 
up and glanced at the trail of yellow egg-yolk 
spattered all down the front, and mentally con¬ 
trasted its untidy, soiled appearance with the 
way it had looked when she had helped herself 


138 : POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

to it out of her aunt’s cedar chest that morning 
without so much as asking. From the apron 
her eyes traveled unhappily to “The Young 
Bride’s Cooking-Book’’ on the window-seat. 
No longer were its covers a creamy white. The 
dainty binding was splotched and spotted in 
many places, where spatters of milk and 
smears of egg had dribbled, while smudgy 
finger-prints showed here and there through 
the pages, where she had thumbed the leaves 
rapidly without pausing to wash her hands. 

“Oh, it was dreadful of me to take them with¬ 
out-asking Aunt Elsie’s permission,’’ she re¬ 
flected unhappily as she wandered aimlessly 
around the room. “It was bad enough about 
the apron. Still, at least, that can wash, but the 
cook-book is quite, quite ruined.” 

When Jeannette, tired of waiting on the 
porch for her tardy sister, ran back up the 
stairs, she found Polly Wiggles curled up on 
the window-seat, staring out across the orchard 
with unseeing eyes. 

“For goodness’ sakes, what’s the matter?” 
demanded Jeannette with a startled look at her 


PRISONERS AT THE BAR 


139' 

sister’s disconsolate face. It was so unlike Polly 
Wiggles to sit in brooding silence. “You look 
as if you had lost your last friend.” 

Polly Wiggles gave a pathetic sniff. “I ought 
to lose every single friend I have,” she mum¬ 
bled indistinctly. 

“Why, Wiggles!” 

“I’m perfectly horrible. Jet, and I don’t see 
how you stand having me for a sister.” 

“Why, Wiggles!” 

“I’ve been sitting here hating myself.” 

“Why, Polly Wig-gles Eat-on!” Jeannette’s 
tone was so horrified and her face was so wor¬ 
ried that Wiggles felt called upon to explain. 

“It’s this,” she gulped, thrusting the soiled 
apron toward her sister so suddenly that Jet 
jumped; “and this,”—and the marred cook¬ 
book appeared in her other hand. “To think, 
after all Aunt Elsie does for us, that I took her 
pretty things and sp-spoiled them.” 

Jeannette looked sober as her eyes fell on 
the articles in question. 

“You didn’t mean to,” she began hopefully, 
but her repentant sister broke in swiftly: 



140 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“That’s just the trouble. I never mean to, but 
I always do. Daddy’s often told me that that is 
one of my worst faults. He’s said so loads of 
times. Why do I always think that a thing is 
wrong, after it’s done instead of ahead of time? 
It wouldn’t be so bad if I’d spoiled something 
of my own, but here I’ve ruined these things 
of Aunt Elsie’s by being careless, and she’s 
always so good to us, getting up picnics and 
parties and planning all sorts of jollifications. 
Oh, Jet, I took these things without asking, 
and, do you know, I do believe I’m just the 
same as a thief.’’ Polly Wiggles had worked 
herself up to such a state of repentance that, 
to Jet’s distress, her eyes brimmed with tears 
and two large ones ran down her rosy cheeks. 
For a moment the older sister sat undecided, 
and then common sense came to her rescue. 

“No, you’re not, Goosie,’’ she comforted, 
giving Wiggles’ shoulder reassuring little pats. 
“It was very wrong, I know, and I should have 
thought of that before, too. ’Cause I’m older, 
and I’m the one that suggested borrowing the 
apron, so I’m just as much to blame as you. It 


PRISONERS AT THE BAR 


141 

was naughty and careless and wrong, but it 
wasn’t exactly stealing, for we didn’t take the 
things to keep.” 

“I—I’ve saved three dollars, and I’m going 
to take the money and buy a new cook-book 
with it,” Wiggles mumbled, wiping her eyes 
with the edge of the apron. 

“I’ll go halv—” started Jeannette, but Wig¬ 
gles interrupted her with more earnestness 
than politeness. “No, thank you just the same, 
but you’re not going to give a penny toward it, 
though it’s ever so nice of you to offer,” she 
announced solemnly. “You never even men¬ 
tioned the cook-book, so I’m the guilty one en¬ 
tirely. Now I’m going in and ’fess up to Aunt 
Elsie the very first thing.” 

Aunt Elsie, who was comfortably settled in 
the big ivory-wicker rocker in her pretty pink 
room, the Rosary, looked up in astonishment as 
the door flew open and her two nieces rushed 
into the room pell-mell. Then, at sight of their 
faces, she quietly laid down the tea-cloth she 
was embroidering and gave them her undi¬ 
vided attention. It was never unusual for Polly 


142 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

Wiggles to dart in like a whirlwind, but for 
quiet Jeannette to do so, was most peculiar, 
and something startling must have happened. 

Polly Wiggles’ eyes were curiously bright, 
and Jeannette’s cheeks were scarlet with excite¬ 
ment as they both came to an abrupt pause and 
then began to talk at once. 

“It was 1.1 did it. I was the bad one, and so 
you must punish me. I’ll get you another, 
honest-truly. Aunt Elsie, but I’m every bit to 
blame,’’ Polly Wiggles confessed with rapid¬ 
ity as she gesticulated wildly. 

“No, no, I am, too; to blame, I mean. I sug¬ 
gested it, honestly I did. Aunt Elsie. I’m the 
older, and I should have stopped to think,’’ 
Jeannette gasped breathlessly, “so I’m lots the 
worse.’’ 

“No, you’re not. But I’m not much better 
than a thief, for I took them without asking 
and now they’re ruined. I’m so ashamed and 
sorry, and, honest-Injun, Aunt Elsie, I never 
even thought of them until now. I was so upset 
about the cake, or I’d have confessed right 
away. Will you ever forgive me?’’ gulped 


PRISONERS AT THE BAR 143 

Polly Wiggles, giving her aunt a strangling 
hug and looking the picture of repentance, al¬ 
though the effect was slightly marred by skeins 
of bright embroidery silk which fell from the 
sewing-table and tangled amid her curls. 

Aunt Elsie rescued her silks with difficulty 
and looked from one flushed face to the other 
tearful one with puzzled eyes. 

“Em quite sure I’ll forgive you both, if you’ll 
only tell me what it’s all about. Who’s the 
thief? What was stolen? Why are you both so 
upset, and what is that smudgy rag with which 
Wiggles is mopping her eyes?” Aunt Elsie’s 
finger pointed straight at the apron which her 
niece still clutched in one hand. 

“It’s your new cretonne apron. I stole it,” 
exploded Wiggles penitently. 

“Stole it?” 

“I told her to,” broke in Jet rapidly. 

Poor Aunt Elsie looked more bewildered 
than ever. 

“Children, I don’t understand at all,” she 
acknowledged honestly. “Come and sit down 
quietly here beside me. Now, Jet, you try to 


144 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

tell me calmly what all this confession is 
about.” 

Maybe it was the smile in Aunt Elsie’s blue 
eyes, or it might have been the comforting 
arms she put about them, but, at any rate, con¬ 
fession came easily. In ten minutes she quite 
understood, and had examined the apron and 
the damaged cook-book, while Mrs. Eaton, 
who had appeared to find out the cause of the 
excited chattering, sat in judgment of the cul¬ 
prits, for tender-hearted Aunt Elsie refused to 
deal out punishments. 

“Oh, don’t let’s say anything more about it,” 
she begged unhappily. “It was wrong not to 
ask me, of course, but the children are sorry, 
and that’s enough.” 

Mrs. Eaton’s face was very grave as she 
looked from the ruined cook-book and egg- 
smeared apron to her sister’s pleading face. 

“No, Elsie, that’s not enough,” she objected 
soberly. “It isn’t the first time the girls have 
spoiled something of yours, and I can’t let you 
be too easy with them now, and beg off the pun¬ 
ishment they deserve. I’ll have to be firm with 


PRISONERS AT THE BAR 


14 S 

you, the way I am with Jet and Polly Wiggles 
when they plead with me not to punish Cubby 
after she has been naughty. So I’ll be the judge, 
you may be the lawyer who defends the cul¬ 
prits, and these careless children may be the 
prisoners at the bar. Now, prisoners, are you 
guilty or not guilty?” 

“Guilty,” the prisoners chorused so 
promptly that even the stern judge smiled. 

“Ahem. Well, prisoners, don’t you know 
how very wrong it was to borrow without ask¬ 
ing permission?” 

“They’re very, very sorry. Your Honor,” 
broke in Lawyer Elsie, trying to look as seri¬ 
ous as a defending lawyer should look. “They 
promise never to do it again, and I ask you to 
take pity on their extreme youth.” 

“They’re old enough to know better,” the 
judge returned, smoothing her lavender-voile 
dress so that Boots could jump on her lap, and 
trying not to smile at the dejected-looking 
criminals. 

“But think of the sorrow of their loving fam¬ 
ilies if they are torn from their parents’ arms 


146 POLLY fVI OGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

to languish in jail,” Lawyer Elsie quavered, 
warming up to her task and declaiming with 
true dramatic fervor while Jet’s lips twitched 
and two deep dimples appeared in Polly Wig¬ 
gles’ cheeks in spite of the gravity of the situ¬ 
ation. 

“They should have thought of that before. 
I could have more compassion on them if this 
were a first offense, but I fear that these are two 
old offenders. The prisoner with the kinky 
curls has come before me many times. In fact, 
she is in my Rogue’s Gallery of pictures, and 
is entered on my files as one Elizabeth Eaton, 
whose besetting sin is carelessness. I fear me 
she is a hardened criminal, and she must learn 
that, while it is bad enough to be careless with 
her own things, to spoil articles belonging to 
some other law-abiding citizen is unpardon¬ 
able.” The judge’s tone was very impressive. 

“I know it. Moth—, Your Honor, I mean,” 
Polly Wiggles murmured meekly with her 
dimples entirely out of sight, and looking very 
serious indeed. 

The judge shook a sorrowful head. “As for 


PRISONERS AT THE BAR 


147 

the other prisoner, who is also in my Rogue’s 
Gallery and listed in my files as one Jeannette 
Eaton, she is guilty of setting a wrong example 
by suggesting the taking of the apron, and of 
conduct unbecoming to an older sister; and I 
am very much surprised and disappointed.” 

Jeannette’s color deepened at the sorrowful 
tone in her mother’s voice as it went on: “The 
responsibility of being an older sister is a great 
one, for she must be looked up to by those 
younger than herself, and trusted by those 
older.” 

“I—I know it. Your H-Honor, and if I 
hadn’t suggested it this morning. I’m sure 
Wig—I mean my fellow prisoner—would 
never have stolen either article. I’m dreadfully 
sorry, and, oh. Mother, I mean Your Honor, I 
do hope you’ll trust me again.” 

Two big tears ran down Jeannette’s face as 
she spoke, for she felt that if she lost her 
mother’s trust, nothing would ever be right 
again. 

“And me, too,” Polly Wiggles sniffed, dab¬ 
bing her eyes with the apron, “for while I’m 


148 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

not the oldest sister, Fm an older sister to the 
Cubby bear, and Fd hate like poison to be a bad 
’xample to her and—and lead her astray.” 

“Then, my clients having spoken for them¬ 
selves and in their own defense, I will throw 
them on the mercy of the court, and the judge 
will pass sentence on them,” announced Aunt 
Elsie as she settled back in her chair. 

The judge ran an inquiring finger through 
the leaves of the cook-book. “The cook-book 
will, of course, be replaced by Elizabeth’s own 
spending-money, but now the question re¬ 
mains, what punishment shall I deal out that 
will make the culprits remember when next 
time comes? Prisoners, I ask you, on your 
honor, what do you think you deserve?” 

“To be boiled in oil,” Wiggles responded 
promptly. “But, Your Honor, if you make me 
do all the family cooking this summer, Fm 
sure Fll never forget again.” She made her 
suggestion with such a dejected air that it was 
hard for the judge to keep a sober face. 

“The trouble is, Fm afraid that would be a 
punishment for the entire family as well as 



PRISONERS AT THE BAR 


149 

you,” returned Aunt Elsie with a droll look at 
her sister as she recollected the starchy cake. 

“Well-1, then, I could make Aunt Elsie’s— 
I mean the lawyer’s—bed all summer,” Polly 
Wiggles volunteered dolefully, for she hated 
bed-making, as the family all knew, 

“If you make it for a week, that will be 
enough,” the lawyer broke in hastily. 

“We’ll compromise and say two weeks,” an¬ 
nounced the judge, rapping for order, for she 
well knew that her tender-hearted sister would 
have liked to cut the time to a day. “Now, 
Jeannette, what have you to say?” 

Mrs. Eaton was a great believer in letting 
the girls suggest punishments of their own, 
and they sentenced themselves in such novel 
ways and to such hated tasks, that the recollec¬ 
tion lingered, as she well knew. They never 
tried to be easy with themselves, and so she 
waited with interest for Jet’s reply. 

“I’ll dust the lawyer’s room for the two 
weeks,” she offered after thinking seriously, 
for she disliked dusting as much as Polly Wig¬ 
gles detested bed-making. 




150 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

The judge cleared her throat. “You have 
passed your own sentences, and court is dis¬ 
missed,” she announced as she rose from her 
chair. 

“Does that mean that we may go to 
Alice’s?” inquired the girls, lingering doubt¬ 
fully and kissing the lawyer and judge with 
the greatest fervor. “Oh, we’re so glad that you 
are our own mother and aunt again, and that 
we’re no longer prisoners.” 

Mrs. Eaton put an arm about each. “Re¬ 
member, chickabiddies, that I’m always your 
mother. I only have to turn into a judge, you 
know, when your own actions require it; so 
it’s up to you to keep me the way you like me 
best. Now skip along, and do keep out of 
mischief.” 

So Polly Wiggles dried the last lingering 
traces of her tears, and washed her face in cold 
water, and Jet lost the worried pucker between 
her eyebrows; and as they skipped down the 
stairway and crossed the broad lawn that sep¬ 
arated The Lilacs from Sweet Briar, both 


PRISONERS AT THE BAR 151 ' 

hearts felt considerably lighter, and their con¬ 
sciences were quite at rest. 

For, as Polly Wiggles expressed it, “while 
punishments were always hateful, still it was 
like paying for something you owed, and you 
felt lots happier when the debt was settled.” 


CHAPTER NINE 


At the rustic tea-shop 

r ET’S go around to the back porch,” 
suggested Jeannette as the two 
i —^ squeezed through the thick hedge 
of briar roses. “Mrs. MaxfieM called over to 
Mother that Alice was going to do her cook¬ 
ing right after luncheon, so probably she’ll 
still be in the kitchen.” 

An ominous odor of scorching sugar 
greeted them as they dashed up the back steps, 
and Polly Wiggles paused to sniff the air sus¬ 
piciously. 

“Smells as if—” murmured Jeannette, stop¬ 
ping to peer uncertainly through the screen 
door. 

—“something were burning,” finished Polly 
Wiggles most unnecessarily, for the kitchen 
was dark with smoke as they entered, and the 
scorched-sugar smell was very, very strong, 

152 





AT THE RUSTIC TEA-SHOP 


153 

while at the stove stood Alice, enveloped in a 
big gingham apron. She looked tired, and hot, 
and cross, and, to tell the truth, she was a little 
bit of all three, but her anxious frown smoothed 
out as if by magic when she spied her two 
friends. 

“Oh, I think cooking’s awful,” she stormed, 
looking about the chaotic kitchen where pots 
and pans and dishes were piled in jumbled con¬ 
fusion. “Just look!’’ She shoved out for inspec¬ 
tion, a frying-pan half-filled with a black, 
sticky, disagreeable-looking mixture, and Jet 
and Polly Wiggles looked at it solemnly. 

“What is it?” 

“That,” returned Alice disgustedly, “is my 
fourth caramel pudding. Doesn’t it look deli¬ 
cious? At least it’s as far as I’ve ever got to¬ 
ward making a pudding. The sugar acts as if 
it were bewitched and turns black every single 
time, and I’m through. I’m not going to try 
again at all, and if those boys have to wait for a 
dinner cooked by my hands, they’ll all turn to 
living skeletons.” She slammed the frying-pan 
savagely into the sink as she spoke, and started 


154 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

scraping out the sugar energetically to relieve 
her feelings. 

“I know just how you feel,” commiserated 
Polly Wiggles sympathetically, “for I made a 
starchy cake, and Jet got into trouble, too. 
We’ll tell you all about it while we help you 
clear up the kitchen.” And as they fluttered 
about from kitchen to pantry, putting pots and 
pans into place, the morning’s trials were 
poured into Alice’s sympathetic ear while she 
punctuated the tragic tale with consoling 
“Ohs” and “Ahs” in just the right places. 

The kitchen was in spotless order and Polly 
Wiggles was just concluding her tale of woe 
when Marion appeared on the scene, looking 
very much upset and quite unlike her placid 
self. 

They crowded about her eagerly, but she 
waved them aside and sank into a kitchen chair 
with a tired grunt. 

“How were the scones? Or did you make 
fritters?” they demanded in chorus, but 
stopped at sight of her expression. 

“Don’t ever mention cooking to me again,” 



“That is my fourth caramel pudding .”—Page 153 . 































AT THE RUSTIC TEA-SHOP 


iSS 

she snapped, shaking back her hair angrily. 
“Such a time as I have had.” 

She paused impressively and looked about 
at the three interested faces that gazed back at 
her open-mouthed. To think that Marion’s 
plans had gone awry, too! 

“I had to wait till way after ten before I 
could even start,” Marion explained in dis¬ 
gust, “because Hugh hung around, and hung 
around, and hung around, till I thought I’d 
scream. At last he went fishing, and I made 
banana fritters.” She stopped with a pensive 
expression on her face and the girls waited 
eagerly. 

“Were they good?” Polly Wiggles inquired 
hopefully, settling back in her chair, and sin¬ 
cerely trusting that some one had been lucky. 

“Good? They were awful,” Marion re¬ 
turned feelingly. “They were black on the out¬ 
side and all raw inside; and the hot fat acted 
as if possessed.” 

“Just like my sugar,” Alice broke in sagely 
with a wise shake of her head. 

“It crackled and sputtered and smoked and 


156 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

did everything it ought not to have done,” con¬ 
tinued Marion savagely, “and every time it 
spattered it burned me.” She tenderly exhib¬ 
ited three bandaged fingers as proof. “Then I 
tried popovers instead of scones.” 

“And—?” prompted Jeannette impulsively. 

“They didn’t pop.” Marion’s tone was very 
dejected as she recollected the flat, soggy, 
tough things that had disgraced the name of 
popover. “But the worst part was getting rid 
of them.” Then, seeing the dawning question 
in Alice’s eyes, she hurried on. “If you’d ever 
had a brother, you’d understand,” she ex¬ 
plained with a sniff. “Why, if I’d put ’em in 
the garbage-pail where they belonged, Hugh 
would have chosen just that time to have 
thrown something in it, too, and then he’d have 
asked forty-’leven questions. There isn’t a spot 
in that house safe from him, and if there’s 
something you don’t want him to see, he always 
sees it the first thing. I honestly believe if I’d 
hidden them up in the attic, he’d have had to 
go to the attic for extra fishing-tackle or some¬ 
thing, and stumbled on them up there.” 


AT THE RUSTIC TEA-SHOP 


157 

“Well, whatever did you do, then?” de¬ 
manded Polly Wiggles. 

“I walked a mile to Farmer Brown’s, and 
fed them all to his pigs,” Marion retorted bit¬ 
terly, “and I only hope that they all won’t die 
with indigestion. Dear me, I felt as guilty as a 
burglar must feel when he tries to hide his 
booty. I kept turning around every minute to 
see if any one was watching me, wondering 
why I was lugging that parcel ’way up to the 
farm. And, oh, how my legs ached when I got 
back!” she ended with a weary sigh. 

However, she brightened considerably, and 
Alice’s face resumed its sunny expression 
when Polly Wiggles told them about Mandy’s 
offer to act as cooking-teacher. And when Mrs. 
MacAllister stopped at the door with the sug¬ 
gestion that they motor into Morristown with 
her, the world lost its gray, gloomy appearance 
entirely and everything looked rosy again. 

All their friends, with the exception of 
Hugh and Kitty, were packed in the roomy 
touring-car which Mrs. MacAllister was driv¬ 
ing herself, and as the four girls comfortably 


158 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

settled themselves, their hostess glanced about 
with a laughing remark. 

“I thought you’d be crowded in like sar¬ 
dines,” she smiled, “but I see there is still room 
for one more. Is there any one else you would 
like to invite?” 

It was just that moment that Polly Wiggles 
spied Jane Juggins sauntering up the avenue. 

Now not one of them really liked Jane. She 
had been more than disagreeable about the 
school May Frolic, and had not attempted to 
conceal her animosity toward Wiggles for re¬ 
ceiving the coveted honor of being May 
Queen. 

When Jane first moved to Meadowbrook 
and became a neighbor, the girls had endeav¬ 
ored to be friendly, but her unkind remarks 
and cutting comments at last caused them to 
leave her severely alone. 

Perhaps it was because Polly Wiggles’ con¬ 
science was unusually tender on account of 
her own wrongdoing, but now, as her eyes 
lighted upon Jane, she suddenly thought how 
lonesome she must be. Her natural honesty 


AT THE RUSTIC TEA-SHOP 159 

told her it was Jane’s own fault that she was 
left out of the many good times shared by the 
others; “but maybe,” argued Polly Wiggles 
with herself, “if we asked her to-day she would 
act pleasantly, instead of being so cross, and 
we’d all like her better. I felt awfully cross and 
snippy this morning, too, and it made me feel 
lots happier ’cause Don was so nice to me.” 
So she drew a deep breath and sat upright in 
her seat, bracing herself for the storm of pro¬ 
test which she was quite certain would arise at 
her suggestion. “L-Let’s ask Jane to go,” she 
stammered with heightened color. 

A long-drawn howl from the others greeted 
her remark. 

Billy shot an astounded glance at his cousin 
and gave a whistle of astonishment. “You 
mean it?” he inquired skeptically. “Say, you’re 
joking, Woggsie. Why invite her to go and 
spoil all our fun?” 

“But maybe she won’t spoil our fun,” broke 
in Wiggles hurriedly, seeing by the expres¬ 
sions on the faces of the others that she could 
not expect much help from them. 


i 6 o POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“She’d better not,” snapped Gabriel heat¬ 
edly, bristling at the idea. 

“Of course it’s whatever you all say,” Polly 
Wiggles returned uncomfortably. 

“If it’s what we say, we all say No," sniffed 
Alice with a shake of her golden head, while 
Marion and Jet plainly sided with her. 

“Why do you want her. Curly Locks, when 
she always goes out of her way to be disagree¬ 
able to you?” Donald asked with a puzzled 
look in his brown eyes. 

Polly Wiggles raised a flushed face and 
wriggled uneasily. It was hard to put her 
thoughts into words, but with a beseeching 
glance at Mrs. MacAllister to understand, 
she began: 

“It’s ’cause she’s the only girl on our avenue 
who is left out of all the fun. You see, she lives 
so very near that she sees us having all these 
good times, and maybe that’s one reason she’s 
so disagreeable. I thought if we asked her to¬ 
day, and—and ” 

“Gave her one more chance,” put in Mrs. 
MacAllister understandingly, with an approv- 



AT THE RUSTIC TEA-SHOP i6i 

ing glance at Polly Wiggles’ worried face. 
“Children, I think Wiggles is right. I know 
you don’t like the girl, and I know she has been 
most unpleasant, especially since the Frolic. 
Still, as Wiggles says, it must be very lonely 
to be the only one missing the jolly times you 
have been having together.” 

“The girls did ask her to a lot of things quite 
a while ago, but you can’t imagine, Mrs. Mac- 
Allister, how she acted. That’s the reason we’ve 
all left her alone,” Dick explained frankly, 
“because she’s what we boys call a ‘spoil¬ 
sport.’ ” 

Mrs. MacAllister nodded. “I know,” she ad¬ 
mitted; “the kind of a person who won’t enter 
into any good time whole-heartedly, and who 
won’t let any one else have pleasure, either. 
Still, let’s give Jane this one more chance to 
‘make good,’ by inviting her to go to-day, and 
doing our best to make her feel welcome. Then, 
it will depend entirely on her own behavior as 
to whether or not we try to be friendly again. 
Do you agree?” 

It would have been a hard-hearted mortal 


i 62 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

indeed who could have resisted Mrs. MacAl- 
lister’s smile, and not one of them was proof 
against it. 

“I’ll do my best, I’m sure,” vowed Alice with 
a martyr’s air, “but, honest-truly. I’d rather 
take a dose of medicine any day. It’s over 
quicker.” 

They couldn’t help laughing at Alice’s re¬ 
signed tone, but all joined with her in prom¬ 
ising to do their best. 

“All right. Then practise putting on 
Cheshire-cat smiles, please.” 

“Like this,” illustrated Billy, beaming so 
broadly that every white tooth showed, and in 
the midst of the mirth his action caused, Mrs. 
MacAllister called out her invitation to Jane. 

“Maybe she won’t go,” murmured Donald 
hopefully in Allan’s ear. 

“Will she go?” returned Allan in a low 
voice. “Will a mouse eat cheese? Just look at 
her jump at the chance, will you?” 

For Jane, with triumph in her heart, has¬ 
tened to clamber into the empty seat without a 
word of greeting to the others, although they 


AT THE RUSTIC TEA-SHOP 163 

welcomed her pleasantly. She stepped on Jean¬ 
nette’s slipper, knocked Marion’s hat awry, 
and joggled Alice’s arm as she squeezed past. 

Through all the rest of the drive to town, as 
far as Jane was concerned the car held but 
three people besides herself,—Mrs. MacAllis- 
ter, Donald, and Allan; and in spite of the 
really heroic efforts the girls made to be 
friendly, they might just as well not have been 
present, for Jane ignored them entirely. Lean¬ 
ing forward with her arms on the seat ahead, 
she chattered glibly first in Donald’s and then 
in Allan’s ear, not giving them a chance to join 
in a general conversation without appearing to 
rudely interrupt her. Of course they were far 
too well-bred to show their annoyance, but 
both were conscious of the imps of mischief 
that were dancing in Billy’s eyes, and uncom¬ 
fortably aware that the girls on the back seat 
were exchanging quietly amused glances. 

When at last the car drew up before The 
Rustic Tea-Shop in Morristown, it must be 
confessed that Donald and Allan at least 
heaved sighs of relief. 


164 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“Ice-cream first, and then I thought we’d go 
over and see the Fairy Pantomime that is being 
given as a hospital benefit this week,” Mrs. 
MacAllister announced as she led the way to¬ 
ward seats in the rear of the shop. “Be careful, 
girls, and don’t get your sleeves in that fly¬ 
paper,” she warned, motioning toward one 
of the tables which was covered with sheets of 
the sticky stuff. Then, with an exclamation of 
pleasure, she turned to greet an elderly lady, 
who had glanced about eagerly at the sound 
of her voice. 

A frown of annoyance wrinkled J ane’s fore¬ 
head, and with a petulant expression about her 
mouth she swung around on her heel and 
drummed idly on the edge of one of the tables. 

The newly-opened tea-shop was most attrac¬ 
tive, with its cool green walls, rustic tables and 
chairs, and cretonne draperies. Hanging-bas¬ 
kets of scarlet geraniums added to its charm, 
while in one of the bay windows a green-and- 
red parrot sidled back and forth on its perch, 
calling “Have a cup of tea, girls,” much to 
every one’s amusement. 


AT THE RUSTIC TEA-SHOP 165 

But Jane was in a mood to be pleased with 
none of it, for Mrs. MacAllister was giving all 
her attention to some one else. She curtly re¬ 
fused to join the group about the talking par¬ 
rot, and angrily eyed Alice and Polly Wiggles, 
who were giggling at something Donald was 
reading from a menu card. 

Jane scowled at sight of their mirth, and 
absent-mindedly tapped with her fingers far¬ 
ther along toward the table center, entirely for¬ 
getting about the fly-paper. 

“Oh, Jane, look out,” warned Jeannette 
pleasantly as she paused at her side. “It’s lucky 
you didn’t get into it,” she continued, trying 
to ignore Jane’s ungracious manner as she 
jerked her arm away from the sticky sheets 
without so much as a “Thank you.” 

“Yes, if you once were smeared with that. 
I’m afraid you’d have to go home, have it 
scraped off, and miss the Pantomime,” Billy 
added as he joined them. “Don’t you girls want 
to come over and see the baskets they have for 
sale? They are really most attractive.” 

“Yes, do come,” urged Jet politely. 


166 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

But Jane preferred to stay where she was, 
and at last, tired of coaxing, Billy and Jean¬ 
nette left her alone. 

Jane cast a thoughtful look at the fly-paper. 
No, indeed, she did not intend to have any un¬ 
pleasant accident mar her day, but, oh, if only 
Polly Wiggles, for instance, would brush that 
frock of hers against it, and have to be sent 
home alone, while the others enjoyed the after¬ 
noon without her. 

“It would serve her right, the stuck-up 
thing, if she really had something to be stuck 
up about,” thought Jane gleefully as she gently 
touched the very edge of the fly-paper. 

Yes, it was very sticky. She could easily im¬ 
agine how Polly Wiggles’ dress would look if 
it ever came in contact with that. “And no 
one would ever know,” she reflected with a 
quick glance about the nearly empty room. “It 
would look just like an accident.” 

At just that moment in her musing, Polly 
Wiggles whirled about and waved an inviting 
hand. 

“Oh, Jane, do come over!” she cried gayly. 


AT THE RUSTIC TEA-SHOP 167 

“Donald is reading out the things on the menu 
in Japanese, and they sound too funny,—just 
like gibberish to us. Don, do tell her what 
chicken is.” She spun around to pick up an¬ 
other menu, and Jane’s fingers, hovering un¬ 
certainly over the fly-paper, pounced upon 
several sheets. Then, with a cautious look to 
make certain no one was watching, she 
quickly placed them in one of the wicker 
chairs, and glanced up innocently as Polly 
Wiggles darted across the room to join her, 
while the others paused to giggle at the antics 
of the parrot. 

“Here’s the menu,” Polly Wiggles smiled, 
handing the card to Jane, who was smiling, 
too, but at something quite different. 

“Let’s sit down and look it over while we’re 
waiting for Mrs. MacAllister,” suggested Jane 
eagerly. “Here, Wiggles; here is a chair for 
you.” 

Polly Wiggles turned a pleased face toward 
Jane. “I’m so glad we asked her after all,” she 
thought, happy at Jane’s thoughtful courtesy. 
“She’s trying to make up for being so rude be- 


168 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

fore.” And as Jane took her arm and steered 
her toward the chair which was pushed in the 
shadow of a tall palm, talking with an anima¬ 
tion quite unusual for her, Polly Wiggles felt 
assured that the afternoon would be a success. 

She paused with her fingers on the arm of 
the chair, to toss a laughing remark to Alice, 
and was just about to seat herself when Mrs. 
MacAllister sauntered over, followed by the 
lady in gray to whom she had been talking. 

“My old friend, Mrs. Dana, is going to join 
us and have some cream,” she said with a smile 
at both children. “Mrs. Dana, may I present 
two young friends of mine, Elizabeth Eaton 
and Jane Juggins? I think you know the par¬ 
ents of both the girls.” 

“Won’t you have my seat,” offered Polly 
Wiggles at once, stepping aside, and before 
Jane quite knew what had happened, Mrs. 
Dana, with a word of thanks, had settled her¬ 
self in the midst of the fly-paper. 

It was more than Jane had bargained for, 
and her heart thumped with fright at the hor¬ 
rible mischance that had caused her plans to 


AT THE RUSTIC TEA-SHOP 169 

go awry. Then, with a long breath of relief, 
she recollected that no one would ever know 
she was in any way responsible. “They’ll think 
it was an accident,” she reflected guiltily, “and 
I’ll run across the room and join the others be¬ 
fore she discovers what has happened.” 

But alas for Jane’s schemes. Before she 
could even turn, she heard a quick exclama¬ 
tion at her elbow, and as she glanced about she 
realized that Fate had taken a hand. To be 
sure. Fate appeared in the guise of a little Irish 
waitress, so pretty in her gay cretonne apron 
and cap that every one smiled at the attractive 
picture she made. That is, every one but Jane, 
for as she looked up into a pair of snapping 
dark eyes that gazed at her scornfully, she sud¬ 
denly wished the floor would open and swal¬ 
low her. 

“Shure, ’tis sittin’ in the fly-paper ye are,” 
the waitress cried to the amazed Mrs. Dana, 
as the children came trooping to see what 
could be the matter. 

“The fly-paper?” ejaculated Mrs. Dana as 
she rose hurriedly and gazed with dismay at 


170 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

the back breadths of her dainty gown, to which 
the paper clung tenaciously in spite of Mrs. 
MacAllister’s attempts to tear it away. “How 
did fly-paper get on a chair?” 

At sound of the question in Mrs. Dana’s 
gentle voice, Jane suddenly shrank back be¬ 
hind Polly Wiggles, who was viewing the 
havoc with startled eyes. But she could not es¬ 
cape the accusing finger that pointed straight 
at her. 

“Oh, ye needn’t hide behind the docther’s 
little girl,” the waitress burst out. 

“But I didn’t—” quavered Jane, dropping 
her eyes guiltily before the unfaltering gaze 
that looked her through and through. 

“Nor say ye didn’t, nather, for I seen the re¬ 
flection in the mirror, and came over on me 
two feet as fast as I could,” the steady voice 
continued, quite as if there had been no inter¬ 
ruption. “Only ’twasn’t yon lady in gray ye 
fixed it for, but the little Eaton girl with the 
curls. Didn’t I see ye a-steerin’ her toward it, 
holdin’ her ar-rum and talkin’ smooth as vel¬ 
vet, ye young scalawag?” 


AT THE RUSTIC TEA-SHOP 171 

There was a moment of electric silence dur¬ 
ing which Mrs. Dana inspected Jane through 
a silver-mounted lorgnette, and while that calm 
critical scrutiny lasted Jane felt smaller than 
the lowliest worm. 

“So,” exclaimed Mrs. Dana’s low voice at 
last, “this is James Juggins’ daughter, Jane. 
Well, Jane, my car is waiting, and I think that 
you and I will make a call on your father at his 
office. Come.” And amid an unhappy silence 
the two left the tea-room. 

It was six when Mrs. MacAllister’s car drew 
up before The Lilacs. The Pantomime had 
been a delight to them all, yet deep in the heart 
of each one a little unpleasant memory was 
tucked away. 

“Cheer up, Woggsie,” Mrs. MacAllister ad¬ 
vised consolingly as she rightly read the sober 
expression on Elizabeth’s face. “You are not a 
bit to blame for what happened, although it 
did rather put a damper on the fun. But do you 
know, I, for one, really believe an experience 
like this is what Jane needs. I think it will 
make her wake to the fact that she is going to 


172 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

miss lots of real fun, if she keeps on indulging 
in malicious mischief like the fly-paper trick 
of to-day. She has too-indulgent parents, and 
has never had the correction she needed before, 
but, knowing Mrs. Dana, I am sure she will 
not get off without a punishment this time.” 

With a final wave of her hand Mrs. Mac- 
Allister drove her car up the driveway of 
White Birches, and arm in arm Polly Wiggles 
and Jeannette ran up the path, pausing at the 
steps to listen to the music that Aunt Elsie was 
playing. 

It was a tune beloved by them both, but a 
sudden gale of laughter chased all seriousness 
from their faces as the melody drifted out to 
them. 

Choking back an uncontrollable giggle, 
Polly Wiggles sank down on the lower step 
and pulled Jet beside her, while the events of 
the day reviewed themselves in her busy mind. 

“Oh, oh,” she gasped, beating time with one 
finger, “the words of that song should be 
changed just a little I think. Instead of ‘The 
End of a Perfect Day,’ it ought to be ‘The 


AT THE RUSTIC TEA-SHOP ' 173 

End of an Imperfect Day.’ Don’t you think 
so, too?” 

And with a vivid recollection of starchy 
cake, adhesive socks, and fly-paper, Jeannette 
heartily agreed. 


CHAPTER TEN 


FRIDAY NIGHT 



'W’ T seemed to the excited children as if Fri¬ 
day night would never come, for one and 
all were agog to solve the tantalizing mys¬ 
tery of the curved knife and the odd directions. 
So when the time at last rolled around, early 
suppers were swallowed by eleven impatient 
children, and the clock had barely struck the 
last of its six strokes before an eager group 
came hurrying up the path, calling gay greet¬ 
ings to Polly Wiggles and Jeannette, who, with 
arms about each other, stood waiting for them 
on the broad veranda of The Lilacs. 

“Hasn’t this been the pokiest day?” sighed 
Polly Wiggles. “It seems a week since morn¬ 


ing 




“Yes, I feel weak waiting for twilight to 
fall,” put in Dick with twinkling eyes, and was 
promptly squelched by Allan and Donald, 


174 




FRIDAY NIGHT 


175 

who declared that was the worst pun they had 
ever heard. 

“Oh,” exclaimed Billy suddenly, “has any 
one taken charge of the directions? We’ll 
never find the right spot without them.” 

There was a hasty scramble while Polly 
Wiggles dashed into the house to get the note 
from Grandmother Carr. When she appeared 
again, triumphantly waving the scarlet paper 
above her head, she had her grandfather in 
tow, while Mrs. Eaton followed behind. 

“We’ll bring up the tail of the procession,” 
she announced gayly as she greeted the chatter¬ 
ing group, “but we couldn’t resist going along 
too, to help solve the mystery. Girls, I think 
you were all very sensible to wear heavy skirts 
and middies as well as thick boots, for the di¬ 
rections sound as if the walking might be 
rough.” 

Donald reached down to pick up her hand¬ 
kerchief, and Gabriel, who had consulted the 
hall clock every few seconds since he arrived, 
called out in excitement that it was six-twelve, 
and hadn’t they better start? 


176 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“Here, you youngsters, these directions say 
‘single file,’ ” ordered Billy, as chairs were 
pushed back in a hurry and every one made 
a rush for the steps. “So snap into place, and 
don’t crowd.” 

“Goodness, you sound just like a police¬ 
man,” Alice put in unkindly, with her chin in 
the air at his commanding tone. 

“So I am,—a policeman who can arrest dis¬ 
obedient little golden-haired girls who don’t 
obey,” grinned Billy, who had been given the 
note to take charge of by unanimous vote. 
“Now, how shall we walk?” 

“You’d better go first. Bill. You’re the tall¬ 
est, and you know the woods about here like an 
Indian,” Allan suggested sensibly. 

“Then a girl ought to go next. The line 
should be, first a boy and then a girl,” Mrs. 
Eaton advised as she turned to wave good-by 
to Aunt Elsie and Mrs. Carr. 

“All right. Then it’s ‘Bill, with Alice all 
agog,’ ” Billy sang out gayly as he pulled Alice 
into place behind him. 

“Then comes Don with Polly Wog,” added 


FRIDAY NIGHT 


177 

Donald quickly, with a glance at Elizabeth 
who skipped into line. 

“Allan next, and Kitty, too,” chimed Allan, 
motioning Kitty to her place. 

“Then Jeannette right back of Hugh,” 
drawled Hugh, much to every one’s astonish¬ 
ment. 

“Dick’s the next with Mary Ann,” put in 
Dick, with an impish look at Marion, for he 
knew from past experience how she hated that 
nickname. “Gay, it’s your turn.” 

“Oh, I can’t, I cant. You know I can’t 
rhyme,” groaned that young man in such 

alarm that they all giggled unfeelingly. 

“I’ll finish it for you,” offered Mrs. Eaton 
kindly, seeing his distress. 

“Dick’s the next with Mary Ann, 

Gay completes the caravan,” 

she chanted promptly as they went through 
the orchard and into the meadow beyond. 

“While grown-ups, too, go ’long to see 
The secret of the mystery,” 


178 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

Grandfather Carr added unexpectedly as they 
walked Indian file before him. “Do you know, 
youngsters, there ought to be one more girl in 
your crowd? Eleven’s an uneven number. As 
it is, you have five girls and six boys.” 

“Yes, wouldn’t it be fine,” Polly Wiggles’ 
voice floated back, “if we could meet another 
nice girl? But Meadowbrook is such a small 
place that there doesn’t seem to be any one else 
about our age who is just—er ” 

“Congenial,” suggested her mother, supply¬ 
ing the wanted word. “It would be splendid if 
you could find another girl who was jolly and 
full of fun too.” 

Grandfather Carr gave a sudden laugh 
“How about Jane Juggins?” he inquired mis¬ 
chievously. 

Such a chorus of groans greeted his sug¬ 
gestion that his shoulders shook with mirth. 

Donald stopped abruptly at a sudden 
thought. “Speaking of the noble Jane,” he 
said, “I can tell you a sequel to the fly-paper 



FRIDAY NIGHT 


179 

“Do hurry and tell us,” implored the girls, 
while even Mr. Carr looked curious. 

“I must confess I have wondered if she were 
punished at all for her malicious joke,” Mrs. 
Eation put in gravely. “What happened, 
Don?” 

“Well, Mrs. Dana thought of the oddest 
punishment you ever heard. She practically 
kidnapped Jane.” 

“Kidnapped her?” gasped Polly Wiggles 
with an impatient prance. “Whatever do you 
mean?” 

“Just what I say. Jane, instead of being 
taken to her father’s office that day, was driven 
to Mrs. Dana’s home in Morristown and left 
there while Mrs. Dana went down and inter¬ 
viewed Mr. Juggins. I don’t know exactly 
what happened, but anyway he consented to 
let Mrs. Dana keep Jane for a month’s visit.” 

“A visit?” echoed Alice in surprise. “Why, 
I don’t think that sounds like a punishment at 
all. Any one would love to visit at Mrs. Dana’s 
beautiful home.” 


i8o POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“I don’t believe Jane is enjoying her visit 
very much. The very first thing she had to do, 
was to clean the fly-paper from that dress, 
while Mrs. Dana stood over her and saw that it 
was done properly. I fancy it was the first 
thing that Jane had ever been made to do in her 
life. And now she’s being put through a course 
in manners that would make your hair curl. 
Mrs. Dana calls it an educational visit.” 

“Methinks Miss Jane is getting ‘hers,’ all 
right, and that ’tis a visit she’ll long re¬ 
member,” remarked Billy with a whistle of 
astonishment. 

“Do you know, I feel sorry for her,” Polly 
Wiggles announced soberly. “She must feel 
dreadfully ashamed of herself. Just imagine 
going for a visit, and having your hostess think 
you were so rude that you have to have man¬ 
ners taught you as if you were a baby. Why, 
she must feel like going through the floor.” 

“Still, it’s what Jane needs,” Grandfather 
Carr returned seriously. “For if once she is 
ashamed of her discourteous ways, she’ll mend 
them.” Then with a quick change of tone he 


FRIDAY NIGHT 


i 8 i 


cried, “Hello, here we are at the rustic bridge.” 

“And there’s the first of the apple-trees we’re 
to count,” shrieked Alice, with all thoughts of 
Jane banished as she pointed eagerly to where 
a gnarled apple-tree trailed green branches 
down to the edge of the stream. 

Such a time as they had then, counting the 
eight other trees. They all counted at once, and 
out loud, until there was so much hubbub and 
confusion that any one would have thought all 
Meadowbrook present. 

At just that moment Kitty made a discovery. 

“Why, look,” she said importantly when 
quietness reigned once more, “with Mrs. 
Eaton and Mr. Carr there are just thirteen of 
us along, and this is Friday. Mandy surely 
would say that something dreadful was bound 
to happen.” 

“Well, don’t look so solemncholy, Kitty- 
Cat,” teased Dick as he turned a somersault to 
limber himself. “The pirates haven’t caught 
us yet, even if all the signs are ‘agin’ us. I, for 
one, am not superstitious.” 

“Pooh, who believes in silly signs, any- 


182 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

way?” scoffed Polly Wiggles. “I don’t. I’m—” 
Her words broke off suddenly, as in her ear¬ 
nestness she stepped backward off the bank, 
landing with a splash in the stream below, 
which fortunately was only ankle deep. 

“Oh, Wiggles” ejaculated Mrs. Eaton de¬ 
spairingly, but she couldn’t keep back her 
laughter at sight of her daughter’s surprised 
expression. 

“There, I knew something would happen, 
and it did,” Kitty cried triumphantly. 

“Oh, Kitty,” smiled Jeannette with an 
amused glance at her friend, “it doesn’t take 
thirteen or Friday or any other sign to make 
Wiggles have an accident. It would be lots 
queerer if something didn’t happen to her for 
it nearly always does.” 

Wiggles scrambled up the bank without 
waiting for help, and scuffed her shoes in the 
grass. “It didn’t hurt me a bit,” she announced 
serenely, lifting a rosy face as she gave a last 
polish to her shoe with a handful of leaves. 
“The water didn’t seem to be so very wet, any¬ 
way. Wasn’t that lucky?” Then she stared 


FRIDAY NIGHT 183 

around in astonishment at the gale of laughter 
that greeted her announcement. 

“Oh, Woggsie, you’re a caution. Wouldn’t 
it be lucky if you could go within a mile of 
water without falling in? I’d be afraid to take 
you abroad for fear you’d tumble off the boat 
in mid-ocean. However, being yourself, you’d 
probably bob up serenely,” Grandfather Carr 
observed as he knelt to feel her shoes, while 
Donald scrubbed the heavy boots energetically 
with a fresh supply of leaves. 

“The trouble is, we’ve called her Polly Wog 
so much that she thinks she ought to act like 
one and live in the water,” Billy explained as 
he pulled one of his cousin’s curls. “Now, 
Woggsie, if you’ve finished your water sports 
for the day, suppose we meander on. After this 
I’d suggest that a bathing-suit should always 
be taken on our outings, for Miss Elizabeth 
Eaton’s exclusive use.” 

“That would be a splendid plan,” agreed 
Wiggles, entirely unruffled at the teasing she 
received. 

“There’s one thing I like about taking 


184 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

Woggsie anywhere,” Dick said thoughtfully 
as they picked their way through meadow- 
grasses already spangled with the gold and 
white of buttercups and daisies, “and that is 
that things are never slow. You can always 
count on something happening. She seems to 
attract accidents as a magnet attracts steel. 
Oh, look, isn’t that the eighth tree?” 

“And see the little path to the right,” chimed 
in Jeannette with a wave of her hand toward a 
narrow path, just visible between two tall oak- 
trees. 

“The Pirate Chief seems to know what he’s 
talking about. I wonder if the old boy will be 
there to greet us in his den or cave, or wherever 
a Pirate Chief hangs out,” Donald said as he 
turned to smile at Polly Wiggles, whose eyes 
were sparkling with excitement. 

“Ugh, I hope not, and yet I’d like to see a 
really-truly pirate,” shuddered Alice as she fol¬ 
lowed Billy timidly along the path. 

“I thought pirates lived on ships,” Marion 
observed as she stumbled over the root of a 
tree. “Didn’t you?” 


FRIDAY NIGHT 


185 

“Maybe this one has retired,” Dick sug¬ 
gested with a reflective air as he stooped to tie 
his shoe-laces. 

“Do you know, I’m glad I thought to bring 
my big flashlight,” Grandfather Carr inter¬ 
rupted the merry chatter a few minutes later as 
he held to one side a trailing vine. “This fo¬ 
liage is so dense that it will be dark by the time 
we return.” 

“Just think,” murmured Billy in awestruck 
tones as he came to a sudden stop, “for all we 
know, our every movement may be watched. 
Pirates may lurk behind each tree-trunk.” 

Alice squealed and shuddered at the idea. 

“Oh, goodness, I hope they don’t!” shivered 
Polly Wiggles, peering about uneasily at the 
gathering shadows. 

Allan eyed her with amusement. Her blue 
eyes were very wide at the thought, and she 
gave a hasty clutch at Donald’s arm as a 
smothered exclamation from Billy, who had 
tripped over a stone, brought them once more 
to a halt. 

Dick held up a finger for silence. “Hist,” 


186 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

he whispered in hair-raising tones. “Don’t you 
hear that stealthy rustling?” 

“Boys, you’re enough to give us the creeps,” 
Mrs. Eaton complained, as she gave Gabriel a 
good-natured poke to make him move ahead, 
for he stood frozen in his tracks. “That’s prob¬ 
ably the wind in the branches you hear. It 
makes a whispering noise that does sound 
weird. I’ll admit.” 

“Haven’t you any imagination. Aunt 
Jean?” Dick asked plaintively. “It’s not every 
day that we get notes from a Pirate Chief, ap¬ 
pointing a meeting-place, and naturally we 
look for a little excitement.” He sank his voice 
to a mysterious undertone as he continued. 
“Now for instance, if a villainous rascal with 
gold rings in his ears, and a big hooked nose, 
suddenly popped from behind that tree and 
gr-r-rabbed you, what would you do?” he 
hissed dramatically, reaching out mischievous 
fingers toward Jeannette’s long curls as he 
spoke, and giving them a quick tug. 

Jeannette showed what she would do by giv- 


FRIDAY NIGHT 187 

ing a startled shriek, which died away in 
shamefaced laughter. 

“You certainly gave me the jimjams,” she 
admitted ruefully as she pulled her hair over 
her shoulders, safely out of her cousin’s reach. 

“We don’t need any imagination,” Hugh 
added as the line of march was continued. 
“You and Bill have enough for the whole 
crowd. Say—there’s the fir-tree.” 

“Then turn left,” ordered Billy, and swung 
about with martial manner. 

The path widened considerably after they 
progressed a short distance, and the trees were 
so much further apart that straying sunbeams 
gleamed in dappled shadows along the needle- 
strewn footpath. 

In ten minutes more the big gray bowlder 
came in sight, and on the flat top of the rock 
there was a long narrow package, wrapped in 
brilliant red paper. 



CHAPTER ELEVEN 


AT THE TWIN OAK-TREE 



H, oh, oh!” 

“What can it be?” 


“Do you s’pose it’s gold?” 


Mrs. Eaton broke into the confused babble 
of questions. “I think,” she suggested with a 
laugh, “that the best way to find out what it is, 
will be to open the package. What do you say, 
boys?” 

“We say ‘Yes’ ” was the emphatic response 
in six ringing boyish voices. 

So Donald and Billy scrambled up the 
lichen-covered bowlder, and, securing the par¬ 
cel, brought it down where it could be in¬ 
spected by the curious group. 

A crudely-painted skull and cross-bones 
decorated one side of the paper, while on the 
other was printed in straggling black letters: 
“From the Pirate Chief.” 


i88 


AT THE TWIN OAK-TREE 189 

Wild with impatience, they could hardly 
wait while Allan unknotted the string. Then, 
as his lips puckered in a noiseless whistle of 
astonishment, they crowded about eagerly as 
he pulled out from its swathings of brilliant 
red paper—a spade. 

“Maybe we’re to dig for his gold,” sug¬ 
gested Polly Wiggles after a lengthy silence. 
“Oh, girls, isn’t this fun? It’s so mysterious 
and queer, and we were fearing a dull summer. 
Do let’s hurry and finish the last of the direc¬ 
tions.” 

“Yes, we’re on the last lap,” Donald agreed 
enthusiastically, as he sprinted up the steep 
bank ahead, which was dotted with dwarfed 
fir trees, and matted with snarled vines and 
creepers. “I can just see the top of the twin 
oak from here, so come on. Curly Locks, and 
let’s make a dash for it.” 

He held out his hand as he spoke, and Polly 
Wiggles, giving a swift glance about to make 
certain that the others were following, let her¬ 
self be helped up the steep slope, digging her 
heels into the earth as she went, and sometimes 


190 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

scrambling on her hands and knees when it 
proved impossible to advance in any other way. 

She was glad of the firm brown hand that 
gave her a friendly tug each time she felt her¬ 
self slipping backward. Once she nearly slid 
down on Jeannette, just behind her, and after 
that she was content to look ahead and did not 
try to peer back over her shoulder. 

Down by the bowlder she heard her mother’s 
voice as she called in response to Grandfather 
Carr’s offer of assistance: “No, thank you. 
Father. Fll wait down here. You go ahead with 
the rest, but Fm content to let the others find 
any treasure round about, rather than shinny 
up that bank.’’ 

Then came Donald’s voice from just above 
her, as he hung to a tree “by his eyelids,’’ as 
he expressed it, and held out a helping hand. 
“Here we are. Wiggles, the first to arrive,’’ he 
sang out cheerfully. “It’s quite a climb, isn’t 
it? Just put your left foot on that root, and your 
right up on this ledge of rock. Then I’ll give 
you a pull and you’ll be up in a jiffy.” 

Back of her she could hear Jeannette’s 


AT THE TWIN OAK-TREE 191 

merry chatter and Alice’s giggle, while 
Marion wailed that her hair was caught on a 
pine-tree, and Dick went crashing to her 
rescue. Then, with one last scramble, and 
helped by a hard pull from Donald, she stood 
at last on the top of the hill, and as she whirled " 
about to face the twin oak-tree, the tallest tree 
on the flat plateau before her, she gave a star¬ 
tled shriek and grabbed hold of Donald’s 
sleeve with trembling fingers. 

“O—oh, I see him,—the Pirate!” she 
quavered, feeling as if every curl were stand¬ 
ing erect with fright. And as the rest of the 
crowd laboriously reached the summit, she 
motioned with a shaking hand toward the 
shadows behind the trees, where the ends of a 
red-bandanna handkerchief were fluttering. 

The boys started forward at a run, with the 
girls creeping timidly behind. 

“Oh, oh, I see his b-black hair,” Kitty 
gasped, holding fast to Polly Wiggles’ dress, 
to keep her back. 

“And the gold ear-rings in his ears,” gulped 
Marion, watching with fascinated eyes as the 


192 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

boys stopped abruptly, grouped about the 
Pirate Chief. The back of his head was all that 
was visible to the girls. The rest was concealed 
by the screening leaves. 

“I h-hope he won’t h-hurt them,” stammered 
Alice, and was totally unprepared for the 
sudden howls of laughter that came from the 
boys. 

“Hurry up, Woggsie, and meet our Pirate 
Chief face to face,” urged Billy in a jovial 
roar. “He’s not so fierce as he looks, and won’t 
hurt you at all.” 

“What do you suppose he means?” whis¬ 
pered Marion as Jeannette and Wiggles 
dashed forward. And then, not wishing to be 
left behind, they all followed closely after, un¬ 
til they paused beneath the spreading limbs of 
the twin oaks, and were facing the Pirate 
Chief. 

“A scarecrow,” exclaimed Polly Wiggles, 
dimpling with amusement at the way they had 
all been hoaxed by the fluttering bandanna. 

“A scarecrowf” echoed the other girls, too 
astounded to do more than stare. 



“0—OH. I SEE HIM,—THE PiRATE!”—P ac/e iPJ 
















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AT THE TWIN OAK-TREE 


193 

It was a scarecrow, it was true, but such a 
one as had never met their eyes before, and one 
that would have been too much for any self- 
respecting crow. How it ever got in that lonely 
spot was a mystery to them all. 

Its face was a cleverly-painted mask, which 
wore a most ferocious frown. Long straggling 
black hair blew wildly about under the ban¬ 
danna knotted above its brow, while brass 
hoop ear-rings hung on each side beneath the 
unkempt locks. 

For the rest, it wore black trousers and a pair 
of ancient rubber boots, while a red sash was 
about its waist, and another bandanna was 
carelessly fastened about the neck of its old 
shirt. Altogether, it was a most impressive 
sight, and for a full minute the girls stood 
speechless with amazement. 

“How did it get here?” demanded Polly 
Wiggles eagerly at last, swinging about to con¬ 
front Donald with startled eyes. 

“Ask him something easy,” Billy returned, 
while Donald laughingly disclaimed all 
knowledge of it. 


194 POLLY JVIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“I’m not acquainted with the gentleman,” 
he replied teasingly with a jolly twinkle in his 
dark eyes, “so don’t look at me so accusingly. 
Curly Locks. Just because I’ve traveled a lot, 
it doesn’t follow that I know all the desperate 
characters around Meadowbrook. My friends 
are quite tame compared with this fierce-look- 
ing chap. Some one introduce me, please.” 

“I said it was a joke,” crowed Gabriel tri¬ 
umphantly, “and you all laughed at me. But 

you can see I was right, after all.” 

Jeannette looked up eagerly. “I don’t think 
it’s a joke even yet,” she objected as she pushed 
back her curls and fanned herself with her 
handkerchief. “It certainly must have been put 
here for some purpose. No one would go to 
the trouble of lugging that clumsy thing up 
here, just for a practical joke.” 

“No,” agreed Allan with a nod, “the joke 
would have been too much on the one that did 
it.” He knit his blond brows in puzzled 
thought as he pondered. “It might be an ad, 
even yet,” he added slowly. “Maybe advertise¬ 
ments of a Pirate brand of something or other 


AT THE TWIN OAK-TREE 195 

will appear in all the papers in a short time.” 

“I don’t think that’s the explanation, either,” 
replied Donald thoughtfully. “There would be 
no object in announcing the ad to a few chil¬ 
dren. No,—I think as Jet does, that there is 
some good reason back of all this.” 

“Well, I wish some one would explain the 
reason for the spade at least,” grumbled Dick 
as he rubbed his aching arm. “I’ve lugged that 
heavy thing all the way up here, and now I 
want a chance to use it.” 

Mr. Carr sat down cross-legged beside Polly 
Wiggles and mopped his flushed face. “Well, 
well,” he laughed, “we seem to have come to 
a deadlock. What do we do now? It puts me 
in mind of the old rhyme: 

“ ‘The King of France marched up the hill with 
twenty thousand men, 

The King of France turned round about, and 
marched right back again.’ ” 

“Is that what we’re going to do, too,—march 
right down again?” 

Donald, who had been staring reflectively 


196 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

at the green boughs overhead sat up with a 
jerk. 

“Do you know,” he said slowly, “that not 
one of us looked at the scarecrow’s hands? 
They are tucked in his pockets, and I 
wonder-” 

He strode over to the Pirate as he spoke and 
pulled out the sleeves to examine them. The 
first one merely ended in a dangling cuff, but 
to the second was fastened another slip of 
the familiar red paper. 

“Good for you, Don. You deserve to be a 
real detective,” Billy cried exultantly as he 
peered over his friend’s shoulder. 

“I wish I were,” murmured Donald con¬ 
fidentially, “and I’d certainly find out why the 
girls and Mandy call me ‘Prince’ half the time. 
I’ve laid trap after trap to catch them, but 
they’re one too many for me. I’ll confess, and 
I haven’t found out yet.” 

“Oh, have a heart and quit whispering like 
conspirators, and read it out,” protested 
Gabriel in a plaintive voice. “Don’t stand mut- 



AT THE TWIN OAK-TREE 


197 

tering to yourselves all night. What does it 
say?” 

“So the boys read together: 

“Let your spade so briskly ply, 

Where the skull and cross-bones lie; 

You will find the thing you seek, 

If you dig both long and deep.” 

All fatigue was forgotten as a frenzied 
search began, although Allan found time to 
whisper in Jeannette’s ear that he wondered 
who wrote all the mysterious directions. 

“Maybe Mrs. Pirate Chief is a poet,” sug¬ 
gested Alice as she poked her fingers cau¬ 
tiously in an old tree-stump, and found noth¬ 
ing more interesting than bits of bark. 

“Or maybe he’s a writer himself. He must 
do something if he’s retired from buccaneer- ^ 
ing,” Dick put in. “I don’t see why, as long 
as he gave us directions, he didn’t tell us where 
to dig. We can’t spade up this whole place.” 

At last, as Polly Wiggles brushed aside a tall 
fern, she spied a splash of red, which proved to 


198 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

be a scarlet flag, on which a skull and cross- 
bones had been painted in black, and at her cry 
the others came running. 

Donald unfastened it from the stake to 
which it had been tied, and passed it over to 
Wiggles. 

“You’d better keep it as a souvenir,” he ad¬ 
vised her, while Dick rushed over for the 
spade. 

The boys took turns at digging, and all were 
soon at work. 

“It’s the most mysterious—thing—I—ever 
heard,” puffed Gabriel, tossing up the dirt as 
rapidly as possible, and panting between each 
word. “Wow, I’ve struck something at last.” 

The “something” proved to be a wooden 
box, tied round and round with rope and sealed 
. with splotches of red sealing-wax, and eager 
hands soon pulled it over beneath the oak-tree. 

Almost breathless with interest, they 
watched while Billy and Allan opened it, only 
to gaze open-mouthed at the inside. With the 
exception of a dozen large stones, the box was 
empty save for another piece of the red paper. 


AT THE TWIN OAK-TREE 


199 

which Polly Wiggles actually snatched from 
the boys’ hands. 

Then she read, her voice quivering with ex¬ 
citement : 

“In three weeks’ time, at five P. M., 

Await directions in the Glen; 

Oh, silly scoffers, have belief. 

And do not fail. 

The Pirate Chief.” 

Her grandfather broke the silence that fol¬ 
lowed. 

“Whew,” he observed, getting out his flash¬ 
light for the return trip, “we thought by this 
time the mystery would be solved for sure.” 

“Whereas,” Polly Wiggles sighed ecstati¬ 
cally as she linked her arm in his, “it seems to 
be getting deeper and darker every minute.” 


CHAPTER TWELVE 


A COOKING-LESSON- 

T he girls entered into the cooking- 
lessons with a vim, and under 
Mandy’s skillful directions they 
progressed rapidly with the three lessons a 
week that she gave them. 

They learned to boil eggs and make toast 
at the very first meeting, and never had either 
article of food tasted so delicious as it did when 
the small chefs partook of their own cooking 
at the end of the lesson. 

The instructions, presided over by Mandy, 
were strictly private, and, no one but the five 
eager pupils was allowed in the big kitchen. 
This was an understood thing, and every one 
else kept away, even when fearful smells of 
scorching food filled the house, or tantalizing 
odors wafted up through the halls, m akin g 
them sniff the air longingly. 


200 


A COOKING-LESSON 


201 


Each girl was given a place of her own, and 
as soon as she arrived she donned her apron 
and got out the necessary bowls and spoons 
which Mandy said would be needed. Jet and 
Wiggles each had a side of the porcelain kit¬ 
chen table, Kitty and Alice worked at a table 
under the casement window, while Marion, 
who was tallest, used the drain-board. In that 
way there was plenty of space for measuring 
and sifting, with as little confusion as possible. 

The first day when they arrived they had 
found five knobby, bunchy packages on the 
kitchen table, labeled plainly, “For the Mystic- 
Star Girls from Grandfather Carr.” Needless 
to say, the wrappings were torn off in a hurry, 
and each cook-to-be found herself the proud 
possessor of a nest of bowls and a small but 
complete set of cooking utensils. Each nest 
of bowls was different, so they would not be 
mixed. Marion’s was green, Alice’s blue, 
Jeannette’s yellow. Wiggles’ pink, and Kitty’s 
lavender; and they were so attractive that it 
was a joy to whip cream or whisk eggs in them. 

By the eighth lesson the girls could make 


202 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

several things very nicely, and the proudest 
moment in Polly Wiggles’ and Jeannette’s 
lives was the morning they prepared creamed 
codfish, boiled potatoes, coffee, and toast for 
Grandfather’s and Dr. Daddy’s breakfast. 
They did every single bit of it by themselves, 
too, and when Mandy descended to the 
kitchen, she found it in apple-pie order, with 
dishes washed and in place, and the dish-towels 
rinsed in boiling water, as she had taught them. 

She was very proud of her clever little 
pupils, and taught them in such an interesting 
manner that the hours spent in the kitchen 
were jolly good times to be looked forward to, 
instead of lessons. On one thing she insisted: 
each girl at least once must make at home 
what she had learned to do in class, and report 
her progress at each lesson. As the girls were 
eager to exhibit their skill, they were glad to 
obey, although poor Marion had to choose oc¬ 
casions when Hugh would be away at meal¬ 
time. 

They even took turns at dish-washing, and at 
setting the breakfast-room table for the im- 


A COOKING-LESSON 


203 


promptu tea-parties that ended each meeting, 
and as Mandy was a capable teacher, and the 
girls enthusiastic beginners, they made rapid 
strides toward knowledge. 

The cream-colored breakfast-room with its 
crisp blue curtains was most attractive. After 
the Windsor chairs were in place about the 
gate-legged table, daintily set with the blue- 
willow china, and decorated with a bowl of 
blue cornflowers and sunny marigolds, usually 
arranged by Alice’s artistic fingers, it certainly 
was fun to be served with bacon and eggs 
prepared by their own hands; or to enjoy 
spaghetti and cheese, or rice and pimento, 
which each one had made for herself in an in¬ 
dividual ramekin and baked until it showed an 
appetizing golden-brown. 

The day they learned to make cocoa and 
feathery muffins Grandmother Carr sent in a 
jar of her grape conserve, which tasted won¬ 
derfully on the hot bread; while the morning 
they tried their skill at chocolate pudding, Mrs. 
Eaton provided cream for whipping. The little 
puddings, each made in its own melon-shaped 


204 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

mold, had looked so attractive when topped 
with the dabs of creamy white, that all five 
cooks squealed at the top of their lungs and ex¬ 
ecuted a war dance about the kitchen until 
Mandy warned them that if the boys heard 
such ear-piercing shrieks, they certainly would 
investigate to see what was happening. 

How the days hurried past with happy times 
galore for every one, and though the boys con¬ 
tinued their teasing the cooking club was still 
a profound secret. 

The Pirate Chief was as much a mystery as 
ever, and as Marion and Alice strolled down 
the avenue toward The Lilacs one morning 
on their way to a lesson, they speculated about 
it once more. 

“Thank goodness,” declared Alice with 
vigor, swinging the package she carried by its 
string, “that we’ll soon know all about the mys¬ 
tery. Only two more days to wait until we go 
to the glen.” 

“Hasn’t it seemed a long time in spite of all 
the good times we have been having?” Marion 
responded. “Let’s wait under this tree for a 


A COOKING-LESSON 


205 


moment, for here comes Kitty rushing down 
the street.” 

“I thought I’d be late for certain,” panted 
Kitty as she dashed up breathlessly, “I forgot 
my apron and had to go back again. I do hope 
the boys will stay away this morning. It does 
seem as if they come over to see where we are, 
every time we have a lesson.” 

“Well, this morning we won’t be bothered 
with any of them, for they’ve all gone to Mor¬ 
ristown and won’t be back until luncheon 
time,” Alice assured her as she led the way 
through the white gate and stooped to pat 
Bingo, who was wandering about the lawn of 
The Lilacs, disconsolate because Donald had 
not taken him along. 

“What’s the matter, old fellow? Did your 
master leave you all alone?” asked Kitty as she 
patted the head of the beautiful white collie 
and stroked his silky fur. 

Bingo gave a low whine and raised mourn¬ 
ful eyes as he wagged his snowy plume of a 
tail. 'He always went swimming and hiking 
with the boys, and he did not understand why 


2o6 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

he had been left behind this time. So he fol¬ 
lowed the girls up on the veranda, where he 
settled himself beneath the hammock with a 
shuddering sigh, and fastened wistful eyes 
down the road, hoping for his young master’s 
return. 

“What are we going to make to-day?” de¬ 
manded Alice as she rapturously greeted Jet 
and Wiggles, who, already garbed in their big 
pinafores, were flying about from pantry to 
kitchen, getting things in place before Mandy 
came down the back stairs. 

“Don’t know. Mandy absolutely refused to 
tell me, though I implored on bended knee,” 
Polly Wiggles responded dramatically from 
the pantry. 

“She said, ‘Little girls shouldn’t ask ques¬ 
tions,’ ” added Jet as she appeared in the door¬ 
way with a paring-knife in one hand and an 
egg-beater in the other. “She did it just to tease 
me, ’cause I was so anxious to know.” 

“Wasn’t the cream-tomato soup we made 
last time delicious? Last night I made muffins. 
Hugh had gone to Donald’s for supper, so it 


A COOKING-LESSON 


207 

was a fine chance. Grandma was so pleased 
when she saw how light they were.” As Marion 
talked she was busy placing bowls and spoons 
at her place by the drain-board. “I thought I’d 
go wild this morning before Hugh left,” she 
continued. “He trailed me all over the house, 
tormenting me. I certainly was thankful when 
Gay hoo-hooed for him and he stopped pester¬ 
ing me. Not that I’d tell him a word, of 
course,” she finished scornfully. 

When Mandy entered the sunny kitchen ten 
minutes later, five demure little girls were 
standing in their places with everything in 
readiness. 

Mandy’s eyes twinkled as she looked about, 
for you could have heard a pin drop as five 
pairs of eyes looked up beseechingly, mutely 
begging her to end the suspense. However, she 
could be dumb, too, and she went over to the 
big ice-box and rummaged inside industri¬ 
ously, trying to repress a smile at the ridiculous 
attitudes the girls assumed. 

At last Wiggles could stand the silence no 
longer. 


2o8 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

^^Mandy, Mandy, have a heart. 

Do we learn to bake a tart? 

Hurry, tell us, shall we make 
Bread or soup, or hash or cake? 

Shall we make a salad green? 

Learn to bake the lowly bean? 

Tell us, ere we pine away. 

What, oh, what, we cook to-day,’’ 

she warbled as she danced about the kitchen 
table beating a noisy accompaniment with a 
spoon and pie-tin. 

Mandy’s black face creased into a broad 
smile. 

“Laws sakes, honey, we ain’t a-going to 
make any of them things; no ma’am, Miss 
Wiggles. To-day we’re a-going to cook a real 
dinner course.” 

She paused impressively, and then from the 
depths of the ice-box she produced five thick 
lamb chops. She exhibited them with pride be¬ 
fore placing them back on the ice until they 
were needed. 

“Broiled lamb chops, stuffed baked potatoes, 
and golden-bantam corn,” she announced with 


A COOKING-LESSON 


209 

a chuckle as she checked them off on her 
fingers. “Now fetch whopping big potatoes 
for baking, scrub them till they’re shiny clean, 
and we’ll get to work. It will take an hour to 
bake them, and another half-hour to stuff and 
brown them, so while they’re cooking, the corn 
can be husked.” 

There was a busy hum of voices in the room 
and a brisk bustling about. Polly Wiggles 
selected the potatoes while Marion lighted the 
gas oven. Then each girl scrubbed her own 
potato until it was almost white, and into the 
oven they were popped. After that the chops 
were brought out again, and Mandy explained 
just how they rnust be seasoned. When each 
one had been salted and peppered, they were 
laid on the platter and put back in the ice-box 
until it was time to broil them. 

Jeannette held the platter aloft. “Don’t they 
look interesting, even if they are raw?” she 
cried enthusiastically. “Shall I—?” She 
paused as a brisk patter of footsteps sounded 
down the hall and Aunt Elsie stuck her head 
through the kitchen door. 



210 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“Now don’t throw rolling-pins and flat-irons 
at me for interrupting,” she begged plaintively 
as six pairs of eyes gazed at her with interest, 
“but if you busy cooklets have a few moments 
to spare, there’s a flower-wagon outside with 
the loveliest plants I ever saw. Don’t you want 
to help us choose something for the hanging- 
baskets? We can’t seem to decide whether we 
prefer begonias or fuchsias, and we want your 
advice.” With a wave of her hand she ran on 
out to the porch, and Polly Wiggles peered 
after her. 

“I can just see the wagon,” she announced 
to the others, “and the flowers look gorgeous. 
Do we dare leave for just a peek, Mandy?” 

“We’ll not be long, honestly,” coaxed Alice, 
“and we’ll scurry like beavers when we come 
back won’t we, girls?” 

“Oh, yes, indeed,” they all chorused eagerly, 
while Polly Wiggles’ eyes twinkled as she saw 
Mandy begin to unfasten her own apron as she 
looked at the kitchen clock. 

“ ’Twill take fifteen minutes yet for the 
potatoes to finish roasting,” she reflected aloud 


A COOKING-LESSON 211 

as she looked into the oven over Marion’s 
shoulder; “and Ah reckon you chilluns can 
rightly skip along till then. I know Miss Jean 
needs me to tote in them pots of flowers, so run 
along, honey-gals, and Mandy’ll come, too,” 
she assured them as she settled her turban. 

So Marion’s spoon and Alice’s fork went 
down with a clatter, while Kitty flew to rinse 
her sticky fingers. In the bustle Polly Wiggles 
managed to tip over the pepper-shaker, which 
added to the confusion, as they all sneezed 
violently, and in her haste Jeannette quite for¬ 
got to place the chops back on the ice, but put 
the platter down carelessly on a chair while she 
busily scooped up corn-husks which her sneez¬ 
ing spell had caused her to drop on the floor. 
Then she skipped out after the others, down to 
the white gate, where her mother, grand¬ 
mother, and aunt were admiring the brilliant 
blossoms that the huckster was peddling. 

Polly Wiggles fluttered about the wagon, 
uttering “Oh” and “Ahs” of pleasure. “These 
are cunning. Grandma,” she enthused as she 
skipped over to exhibit a pot of tiny scarlet 


21 Z POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

blossoms tipped with white. “They look just 
like little firecrackers growing on stems.” 

“Just the thing for my hanging-baskets,” 
Grandmother Carr exclaimed at once. 

The plants were small, so the girls helped 
search about the wagon for all they could find, 
while Mandy gathered up an armload of 
fuchsias that Mrs. Eaton had selected, and 
took them over to the rockery. She paused with 
her arms full, to motion to Polly Wiggles. 

“Honey,” she breathed, “you’d best go and 
take a peek at those potatoes. I’ll come as soon 
as I put these down.” 

Polly Wiggles was off like a flash, but was 
back almost immediately, a startled look on 
her expressive face. 

The flower-wagon was already disappearing 
around the corner, and the girls were helping 
Mrs. Eaton with the rustic baskets. They all 
looked up as Wiggles dashed down the steps, 
her curly locks every which way, while her 
words tumbled over one another in her eager¬ 
ness. 

“Oh, oh,” she gasped breathlessly, “the po- 


A COOKING-LESSON 


213 


tatoes are ready, ’cause I punched them with 
a fork to see. But what do you s’pose?” 

She paused dramatically, and then finished 
impressively: 

“But every single lamb chop is gone.” 


CHAPTER THIRTEEN 

gone! 


“jT ■ ^HEY can’t be,” wailed Alice as she 
I scrambled to her feet and dashed 
M down the hall with the others in 
close pursuit. “They must be in the ice-box, 
Woggsie.” 

Jeannette paused at a sudden thought and 
then darted forward to pick up the empty plat¬ 
ter from the chair where she had placed it. 

“It’s all my fault,” she wailed tragically, 
“for I forgot to put them away as I should have 
done. Oh, where can they have gone?” 

Grandmother Carr leaned over Alice’s 
shoulder to look. The platter was certainly 
bare, but she patted her granddaughter’s arm 
comfortingly. “As Alice says, you probably 
took them off that plate and put them in the 
ice-box absent-mindedly. I’ve done things with¬ 
out thinking, lots of times.” 


t 


214 


GONE! 


215 

“But Fm quite sure I didn’t, Grandma.’’ As 
Jeannette spoke she knelt before the big ice- 
chest and diligently searched first one shelf and 
then another. “No, they’re not here, either. 
They’re gone. I remember distinctly having 
the platter in my hand to put away, and-” 

“And then you put it on the chair while you 
picked up the corn-husks. Don’t you remem¬ 
ber?” chimed in her sister, catching her apron 
on the knob of the door and ripping it. 

Then the search began in earnest. They 
looked on shelves and in the kitchen closet, 
hunted about the pantry, and even rummaged 
through the glass cupboard, but not a sign of 
a chop did they see, and at last five disconsolate 
girls, three surprised ladies, and one startled 
colored cook gave up the problem. 

“Fll tell you what Fll do,” Aunt Elsie an¬ 
nounced in the midst of the hubbub, as she cor¬ 
rectly read the disappointment shown on the 
girlish faces at the thought of the lost dinner 
course, which certainly would not be much of 
a dinner with the meat gone. “Your potatoes 
are all baked, and while Mandy is showing 



2 i 6 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 


you how to prepare the stuffing for them, I’ll 
dash out and buy five more chops. There’s a 
butcher shop only two blocks away, so I’ll be 
back in a jiffy. Don’t cook your corn or put 
your potatoes in to brown, though, until I get 
back, for I might be delayed.” 

“Yes, that will be the best plan,” nodded 
Mrs. Eaton approvingly, as her sister whisked 
out of the back door. “Don’t look so despond¬ 
ent, youngsters. It won’t hurt your dinner a bit 
to postpone it until a little later.” 

“But I declare, I don’t know what to make 
of it,” broke in Grandmother Carr as she 
peeped in the lower door of the gas range, to 
make sure that the chops had not been put on 
the broiler by mistake. “I don’t like the idea of 
disappearing chops at all. The back door was 
unlocked. Do you suppose a tramp-?” 

She paused and looked at her daughter ques- 
tioningly, but Mrs. Eaton shook her head. “I 
don’t think so. Mother,” she replied, fastening 
the barrette on Polly Wiggles’ hair. “I don’t 
believe that a tramp would take raw chops, and 
leave other more valuable things. Why, there 



GONE! 


217 


was a two-dollar bill in plain sight on the top 
of the ice-box, and that has not been taken. No, 
I don’t think that is the solution. I should say 
that Cubby was the answer, if she hadn’t been 
under my eyes every minute of the time that 
the flower-wagon was here. There, isn’t that 
Daddy’s voice? Let’s go out and tell him about 
it.” 

After the two had left the room, the inter¬ 
rupted lesson continued. The potatoes were 
cut lengthwise, and each cook scooped out the 
mealy contents into a small bowl. Then Mandy 
showed them how to add butter, seasoning, a 
little beaten egg, and a dash of grated onion, 
and, after whipping it all together until 
smooth, how to pile it lightly into the empty 
potato skins. 

They had just finished washing the bowls 
when Aunt Elsie hurried in, breathless from 
her hasty errand. 

“Here are six lamb chops,” she panted, drop¬ 
ping into a chair and fanning herself vigor¬ 
ously with a pie-plate, “and I’d advise you to 
keep an eye—in fact, two eyes apiece—on them 



2 i 8 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

every instant, to see that they don’t climb down 
from the broiler and go for a walk.” 

“If there are six chops, you stay and eat with 
us,” suggested the girls eagerly with a chorus 
of thanks, but Aunt Elsie shook her head re¬ 
gretfully. 

“I wish I could,” she replied with a doleful 
sigh, “but I can’t to-day, as I have another en¬ 
gagement. However, I’m going to be like the 
small girl who was asked to have another piece 
of cake. She replied, you know, ‘Not now, 
thank you, but I will as soon as I can manage 
it.’ So expect me some other day when I can 
manage it.” 

There was a bright color in her cheeks as 
she hastened out, that was not all caused by the 
rapid walk she had taken. Her cheeks grew 
even rosier as Polly Wiggles gave a mischiev¬ 
ous giggle and called softly, “Oh, do be sure 
and wear your apricot-colored dress. Aunt 
Elsie. He likes it so much,—I heard him say 
so.” 

She was still giggling as she evaded the pil- 



GONE! 219 

low that Aunt Elsie threw at her from the 
hallway. 

“What’s the joke?” demanded Kitty as she 
used the salt-cellar with vigor. “Who likes 
apricot color?” 

“Mr. Burnett,—the one who rescued Cubby 
from the bull, you know. He’s on his vacation, 
and he and Aunt Elsie are going for a ride. 
Ever since he saved Cubby’s life, he’s been so 
fond of Daddy,” explained Polly Wiggles as 
she emphasized the last word. 

“Of your Aunt Elsie, you mean,” put in 
Marion bluntly, poking her chop cautiously as 
if she expected it might bite her. “Well, per¬ 
sonally, I think he shows good taste. Wouldn’t 
it be thrilling if-” 

—“if it were a romance,” breathed Alice. 
“Oh, Wiggles, wouldn’t it be gorgeous to have 
a wedding in the family? Maybe we’d all be 
invited, too.” 

“Yes, I do feel that Aunt Elsie ought to 
think it’s her duty, ’cause Jet and I have never 
been to a wedding, and it would be so interest- 



220 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

ing. She’s so sweet and obliging about every¬ 
thing else, that I should think she’d be willing 
to oblige me in that. But do you know, when 
I spoke to her about it one day, she got mad as 
hops, and said I must never refer to it again. 
I do think grown-ups are queer, don’t you? 
Mandy, shall we put the chops in to cook?” 

The chops were sizzling away on the broiler 
and the corn bubbling in the pot, when Grand¬ 
father Carr entered the kitchen after a loud rat- 
a-tat-tat on the door. 

There was a twinkle in his eyes as he looked 
at the group of girls who were chattering like 
magpies as they talked over the vanishing 
chops. 

“Seems to me there are a great many mys¬ 
teries about here lately,” he interrupted them, 
giving a swift glance about as his granddaugh¬ 
ters flung themselves enthusiastically upon 
him. “What do you say, Mandy?” 

“Ah says. Ah don’t like it no-how,” re¬ 
sponded Mandy, wagging her head to and fro 
till her turban slid over one ear. “Ah’ve seen 
lambs walk, Mr. Carr, and run too, but Ah 


GONE! 


221 


never seen nor heard tell of a lamb that had 
been cut up into chops, walking away without 
laigs.” 

“No, I must say, between walking chops and 
pirate knives, that we have led an exciting sum¬ 
mer. I can feel myself aging beneath the 
strain,” Grandfather Carr said solemnly. 

“What we need is one of those detectifs, with 
a magnetizing glass, like Mastah Billy and 
Dick is always a-talking about,” broke in 
Mandy plaintively. “Why, Ah won’t feel safe 
again. For all Ah knows, mah apple pies might 
go a-galloping down the street some night, or 
mah French fried potatoes go a-sailing out the 
window.” 

“That would be a tragedy, and I could never 
stand the shock of losing one of Mandy’s apple 
pies. Fd never be the same man again,” Mr. 
Carr announced gloomily as he looked 
thoughtfully about the room. “I think her idea 
of calling in a detective is a good one. I guess 
Fd better see what I can do about it. Wait a 
minute, youngsters; Fll be right back.” 

“Do you know,” said Polly Wiggles em- 


222 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

phatically as the door closed behind her grand¬ 
father, “if I didn’t know that those boys were 
safe in Morristown, I’d think they had done it 
to tease us. It looks just like some of Billy’s and 
Dick’s pranks.” She stopped with a sudden 
laugh as her grandfather reappeared, and the 
other girls turned around to stare in round¬ 
eyed amazement at his changed appearance. 

On his head was a black-and-white cap, 
cocked up into a peak, while in his mouth was 
his largest pipe, and in one hand he carried the 
magnifying-glass which he had hastily caught 
up from the library table. 

“Is it a disguise?” inquired Kitty curiously 
as she giggled at his ridiculous appearance. 

“Why, it’s Sherlock Holmes, the great de¬ 
tective, himself,” cried Alice, clapping her 
hands and doubling up with mirth as Mr. Carr 
dropped to his knees and hunted busily over 
the floor, peering intently through the big 
glass at each spot he found on the linoleum. 
“He looks just like the pictures. Surely you’ve 
seen them, Kitty. What are you doing, Mr. 
Carr?” 


GONE! 


223 

Grandfather Carr looked up with a preoc¬ 
cupied frown on his ruddy face. “I am hunting 
for clues, and tracking a criminal to his lair,” 
he responded with a twinkle of amusement as 
he saw Mandy’s rolling eyes. 

“Foh de land’s sake, what will this fambly 
do next?” Mandy exclaimed gustily as she 
watched Mr. Carr with staring eyes. “Ah 
haven’t any clothes on mah clean kitchen flo’.” 

“Not clothes,—clues,” corrected Polly Wig¬ 
gles gayly as she waltzed about the room with 
every dimple in evidence as she watched her 
grandfather intently. “You know, Mandy, 
when a thief drops a handkerchief or a collar- 
button, or leaves a finger-mark or footprint, 
they call it a clue. Billy read me all about it 
from a book that he has. That’s the way they 
catch burglars. Oh, I wonder if the turtle left 
any claw-prints,” she ended with a giggle. 

“Why doesn’t the burglar leave a calling- 
card and be done with it?” inquired Marion 
with a sniff. “If he’s going to drop parts of his 
wardrobe about, he might just as well, I should 
think.” 



224 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“Oh, he’d only drop the things by accident,” 
Jeannette explained quickly. “Have you found 
any clues as yet. Grandpa?” 

“Yes, several, my curious granddaughter. 
In fact, without any further search I can tell 
you several things about the criminal already; 
as to his—er—personality, that is.” 

“Now Mr. Carr, you’re teasing us,” pro¬ 
tested Alice soberly as she sank down on a stool 
by his side and peered intently at the floor. 

“Well, judge for yourself. He has a most af¬ 
fectionate disposition, is very fond of meat, and 
has taking ways,” put in Mr. Carr with much 
enjoyment at sight of the puzzled look on 
Alice’s face. 

“Oh, Grandpa! Why not tell us the shape of 
his nose, and the color of his eyebrows, and be 
done with it?” demanded Polly Wiggles scof- 
fingly, skipping over to wag a reproving fin¬ 
ger at him as he eyed her quizzically. 

“Oh-ho, young lady, so you doubt my ability 
as a second Sherlock Holmes, do you?” Mr. 
Carr returned as he gave her a ferocious frown 
through his magnifying-glass. “Well, just 


GONE! 


225 

listen to this description, Miss Polly-Wog- 
Wiggles, and decide for yourself. The thief 
has soulful brown eyes, and his hair is much 
like mine.” 

“Do you mean he’s baldf” inquired Marion 
seriously. 

“No. I mean his hair is somewhat the color 
of what remains of mine,” Mr. Carr made an¬ 
swer as he smoothed down his white locks and 
smiled provokingly at the mystified children. 
“Only his hair is much thicker.” 

“Well, I don’t see how you can tell. If you’re 
right, you must be a wizard,” Kitty chimed in 
admiringly. “Can you find the thief for us, too, 
as well as describe him?” 

“Ah-ha, she’s caught you there. Grandpa,” 
Jeannette put in with a wise wag of her head. 

“Don’t be too sure of that, because I’m quite 
certain I can find him. But how about a re¬ 
ward? All real detectives get rewarded, you 
know,” Mr. Carr said, looking very serious. 

“A reward?” echoed Polly Wiggles. “Why, 
Grandpa, I’m ’shamed of you. Our grateful 
thanks and—er ” 



226 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“Admiring praise,” added Jeannette neatly 
as her sister came to a stop, “ought to be plenty 
of reward for you. Grandfather. And then, too, 
you would have the pleasant feeling of a good 
deed well done.” 

Her grandfather’s eyes twinkled at her re¬ 
sponse, for the last sentence was one he often 
used himself each time the girls objected to a 
disliked task. 

“However, we’ll add the chop,” cried Alice 
suddenly. “How’s that for a reward? If you 
catch the burglar for us, we’ll invite you to 
have luncheon with us and eat the extra chop, 
as well as corn and potatoes.” 

Mr. Carr rose with exaggerated haste. “That 
settles it. The villain shall be f-f-foiled,” he 
hissed theatrically, “and the reward mine. Fol¬ 
low me.” 

Laughing at his nonsense, the girls trooped 
after him as he stalked across the kitchen, 
pausing impressively every step or so to gaze 
through his trusty magnifying-glass, much to 
Mandy’s amazement. 

“Ha. Just as I supposed,” he cried suddenly. 


GONE! 


227 

as he picked up a splinter of bone from the 
pantry floor. 

Through the hall and up the stairs he led 
them. On the landing above one solitary chop 
reposed, and leaving Mandy gazing at it in 
amazement, they all scurried on until they 
reached the Forget-me-not room, the door of 
which stood slightly ajar. 

“In our room?” cried Jet and Polly Wiggles 
in astonishment as Grandfather Carr pushed 
the door open wide and turned to beckon them 
in. 

Mr. Carr nodded solemnly. “It is just as I 
thought, and here concealed lies the miserable 
thief,” he announced severely. 

“But a b-burglar—here?” gasped Kitty, giv¬ 
ing a fearful glance over her shoulder, and 
looking uncertain as to whether to run away 
or stay. 

“Right here.” And as he spoke, Mr. Carr 
threw back the cretonne valance of Jeannette’s 
twin bed. 

With one accord they stooped to look, and 
there on the floor, surrounded by fragments of 



22 8 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

bone, lay Bingo, thumping his plumy tail en¬ 
ergetically as he saw them, and gazing at them 
with beseeching brown eyes. 

“Bin-go!” shrieked five voices in rapid cres¬ 
cendo. “Oh, you bad, bad dog!” 

“Still it was too much to ask of any dog, to 
leave chops under his nose, so to speak, and 
not expect him to indulge in a taste. Really 
Bingo isn’t so much to blame, so I wouldn’t 
scold him very severely. Didn’t I tell you that 
the thief had brown eyes, white hair, and an af¬ 
fectionate disposition?” teased Grandpa Carr 
as Bingo thrust his nose in Polly Wiggles’ 
hand and begged to be petted. “Now, I’m hun¬ 
gry. The thief has already enjoyed a delightful 
tea-party, but how about the poor starved, 
hard-working detective?” 

Mr. Carr’s tone was so plaintive that the 
girls giggled, and Polly Wiggles swept him 
a graceful curtsy. 

“As the distinguished solver of one of our 
many mysteries,” she said, smiling across at 
her grandfather, “we humbly invite you to be 
the guest of honor at our interrupted feast. 


GONE! 


229 


There, doesn’t that sound impressive? Do you 
know, girls, I think we’ll have to put Grandpa 
on the track of the Pirate Chief.” 

“Well, put me on the track of a luncheon 
now, that’s all I ask,” implored her grandfather 
as he sniffed with appreciation, the appetizing 
odors that were wafting out from the kitchen, 
and seated himself at the table in readiness. 

And as this time the chops were done to a 
turn, the corn tender and delicious, and the 
brown fluffy potatoes a delight both to see and 
taste. Grandfather Carr declared when the 
feast was over that he was more than satisfied, 
and for such a reward he would willingly play 
detective at each and every cooking-lesson. 


CHAPTER FOURTEEN 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 

“ "I^OLLY WIGGLES. Pol-ly Wig-gles, 
I say. Are you ready?” 

JL Polly Wiggles gave a quick tug to 
her tan-linen frock, fastened the red belt about 
her with impatient fingers, and then darted into 
her grandmother’s room, to lean out of the 
window at a perilous angle and answer the 
long-drawn hail that sounded from the road 
outside. 

“I’ll be down in just a second,” she cried in 
answer to Donald’s call; “just as soon as I can 
find my red necktie. It seems to be lost.” 

“Why, Wiggles, it’s on the door-knob where 
you put it last night. You said then you’d surely 
remember it. Do hurry, for here come the girls 
now.” Jeannette jumped into the pony-cart be¬ 
side Aunt Elsie as she spoke, and Polly Wig¬ 
gles’ laughing face disappeared abruptly. 

230 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 


231 

It had been decided to take both Donald’s 
and Gabriel’s pony-carts to the Glen, as the 
distance was too far to walk with comfort. So 
when Polly Wiggles dashed breathlessly down 
the path, fastening her necktie as she ran, she 
found Aunt Elsie already in the driver’s seat 
behind the white ponies, with the girls tucked 
in about her. 

“You don’t mean to say you’re ready at last, 
do you?” teased Grandfather Carr, who was 
acting as driver in the other cart, with all the 
boys as his passengers. “We thought you had 
become nervous about meeting the Pirate 
Chief and had decided to stay home.” 

“As if I’d miss all the fun!” responded Polly 
Wiggles disdainfully as the brown ponies 
started on a jog-trot and the white ponies fell 
into line behind them. 

There was a great fluttering of handker¬ 
chiefs as they drove away, for Grandmother 
Carr and Mrs. Eaton, who both preferred re¬ 
maining at home with Cubby, were on the ve¬ 
randa to see them start, while the wee bear blew 
kisses galore, and was only reconciled to being 


232 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

left b^ind by promises of a tea-party with 
cookies and lemonade. 

“Come on, everybody, strike up a tune,” 
called Billy from the cart ahead. “It will cheer 
those gloomy souls who have no faith in the 
Pirate Chief,” he added with a mischievous 
grin at Gabriel. 

So as they had passed the outskirts of Mead- 
owbrook and were trotting along a country 
road, they all joined in as Billy started a popu¬ 
lar song. Heads popped out of farmhouse win¬ 
dows, and children came dashing to see them 
pass by. 

“Isn’t it a shame we didn’t think to make this 
a picnic?” Polly Wiggles bemoaned in one of 
the lulls between songs. “If only we had 
brought a basket supper along.” 

“Yes, if only I’d thought of it before I left,” 
mourned Alice, “but I was too excited. And 
Grandma made sugar cookies this morning, 
too.” 

“I wonder why a ham sandwich out of doors 
tastes better than a seven-course banquet in¬ 
side?” mused Allan reflectively. “Oh, just 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 


233 

think how good those cookies would have 
tasted. Yum-yum.” 

“Do stop talking about good things to eat,” 
Gabriel requested them plaintively. “It makes 
me feel hollow inside. Come on and sing some 
more. It takes my thoughts off food, and din¬ 
ner time is a long time away yet.” 

“Sing ‘Yankee Doodle,’ ” suggested Hugh, 
who liked martial music. 

Billy looked about thoughtfully, and then, 
with a wicked grin at Gabriel, he started. The 
tune was “Yankee Doodle,” but, needless to 
say, the words were his own. 

“I wish I had a chocolate cake, just thick with mocha 
icing. 

With nuts and cherries on the top, it sure would be 
enticing. 

CHORUS 

How I’d like a chocolate cake, it would be dandy. 
If ’twere mixed and stirred and baked, and iced by 
Mistress Mandy.” 

Before Gabriel could do more than give him 
a reproachful glance, Dick chimed in: 


234 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“I wish I had some gingerbread, with raisins mixed 
within it, 

All hot and spicy; I am sure ’twould vanish in a 
minute. 

CHORUS 

How I’d like some gingerbread, if ’twere baked by 
Mandy, 

Not a crumb would there be left, but, oh, it would 
taste dandy.” 

‘‘Encore, encore!’’ applauded Grandfather 
Carr lustily. “Why don’t I hear any verses 
from the girls? You certainly aren’t going to 
let the boys outshine you, are you?” 

“Oh, don’t let them get ahead of us,” 
squealed Alice, giving Polly Wiggles a violent 
nudge. So, resolved not to be outdone by her 
cousins, Polly Wiggles piped up in her clear 
soprano. 

“I wish I had a lemon pie, the kind beloved by 
Wiggles, 

With white meringue upon the top, in little scrolls 
and scriggles. 

CHORUS 

How I’d like a lemon pie, if ’twere baked by Mandy, 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 


235 

It would have a crispy crust, and, oh, it would taste 
dandy!’’ 

‘‘Good for you, youngster,’’ called Billy, 
while the other boys clapped vigorously. And 
then Donald tried his skill: 

“I wish I had some doughnuts brown,, the way that 
Mandy fries them. 

Forgotten they will never be, by any one that tries 
them. 

CHORUS 

How I’d like some doughnuts brown, Mandy sure 
can mix them. 

With the sugar sprinkled thick, she knows just how 
to fix them.” 

“Clever boy,” cried Allan admiringly. “We 
have a lot of poets with us to-day. Now, who’ll 
tantalize us further? My mouth is watering 
already.” 

^‘I’d rather have an apple tart, all made with lots of 
butter. 

And scalloped round about the edge with Mandy’s 
cookie-cutter. 

CHORUS 

How I’d like an apple tart, if you’ve ever eaten 


236 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

Mandy’s luscious apple tarts, you’ll know they can’t 
be beaten.” 

sang Jeannette’s contralto, while the boys kept 
time with a whistled accompaniment. “It’s 
your turn next, Aunt Elsie.” 

“I’m pulling in my belt by inches,” Billy 
called out jokingly. “What else is on our poet¬ 
ical menu ?” 

“Honey buns,” returned Aunt Elsie with a 
twinkle in her eye. “How’s this? 

“I sing a song of honey buns, it’s really not surpris¬ 
ing, 

When filled with citron, fruit, and nuts, these buns 
are appetizing. 

CHORUS 

Sing a song of honey buns, my, they are delicious. 
What a feast we’d all enjoy if we could have our 
wishes.” 

“If we only could,” groaned Gabriel hun¬ 
grily. “Mandy makes wonderful cherry tarts, 
too.” 

“Seeing that you have such tender recollec¬ 
tions of them, pipe up,” commanded Dick 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 


237 

briskly, while they all shrieked with mirth at 
Gabriel’s dismayed protests. 

“Cheer up, Gay, I’ll come to your rescue,’’ 
Alice consoled him. “Only it’s not cherry tarts 
that I’m going to sing about.’’ Then, folding 
her hands in her lap, she began: 

“I much prefer the bisque ice-cream, the kind that 
Mandy freezes, 

With powdered macaroons inside, I know it always 
pleases. 

CHORUS 

How I love her bisque ice-cream, it’s the best I’ve 
tasted. 

All the boys come flocking round, to see it’s never 
wasted.” 

“That’s true,’’ broke in Polly Wiggles with 
a toss of her curls. “I do think they can hear 
that freezer a mile off, ’specially Dick and 
Billy.’’ 

“Why, Woggsie-Wiggles, how you wrong 
us,’’ her cousins protested in a breath, while 
Billy added in a tone of injured innocence: 
“We just drop in to help with the freezing. We 
think it’s too hard work for Mandy.” 


238 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“Ahem,” said Grandfather Carr, clearing 
his throat. Then in a mellow baritone he sang: 

“I sing a song of sugar pills, of pellets and of plasters, 
Of tummy-aches and doctor’s bills, and even worse 
disasters. 

CHORUS 

Soon with gout you’ll all be sick, then there’ll be a 
riot. 

Better call a doctor quick, and go upon a diet.” 

“Oh, Grandpa, aren’t you awful!” cried 
Polly Wiggles in mock astonishment, “to 
make such horrible suggestions. Why, here we 
are at the clearing already. Didn’t the ride 
seem short?” 

“Is this the Glen?” Donald inquired in 
amazement as Mr. Carr brought the ponies to 
a halt. “Why, I thought you said there was a 
stream and a little waterfall.” 

“Remember that patience is a virtue,” re¬ 
sponded Billy as he clambered out of the cart 
and fastened the ponies. “This is as far as we 
can take the pony-carts. The rest of the way 
we hoof it. Ladies, are you ready? If so, let’s 
amble on.” 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 


239 


Gabriel led the way down a winding trail 
between thickly-matted grapevines and rasp¬ 
berry-bushes. “Listen,” he said as he paused a 
moment; “that rushing noise is the waterfall.” 

“Doesn’t it sound cool and tinkly?” smiled 
Polly Wiggles. “Oh, girls, look at this won¬ 
derful maidenhair fern. We ought to bring 
trowels and baskets and come here some day. 
Mother would love to have some for her 
rockery.” 

“Well, here’s a variety of maidenhair that 
was never meant to grow on a bush,” Dick 
sang out as he stopped to free Marion’s long 
locks from the briars in which they had be¬ 
come entangled. 

“Ouch! O-u-c-h!” wailed Marion. “O 
dear! I’m going to have my hair bobbed this 
week. I’m tired of having it torn out by the 
roots.” 

The Glen, which Gabriel had discovered by 
chance on one of his many prowls in search of 
flowers and ferns, was really a delightful spot, 
and one of its chief charms was the fact that so 
few people knew about it. So the big oval 


240 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

clearing, thickly hedged about by trees and 
bushes, was covered with emerald-green moss, 
like a velvet carpet on which had been woven 
a pattern of ferns and wild flowers. A flat rock 
was in the center, and from it the ground 
sloped gently downward to a little stream that 
gushed past from the waterfall above. The 
water was crystal-clear and as cold as ice, and 
jewel-weed and feathery ferns outlined its 
wandering way. The opposite bank rose 
abruptly in a steep green wall to a flat meadow 
land high above their gaze, while to the right 
of the clearing the rocks formed a natural fire¬ 
place, where corn and potatoes could be 
roasted. 

Donald exclaimed with delight at the pretty 
scene. The rustling boughs overhead, the 
flickering shadows cast by overhanging 
branches which shut out the glare of the sun, 
the quiet peacefulness of the place, only 
broken by bird notes and the ripple of the 
water, all charmed him; and he turned to 
Allan, who had halted just behind him. 

“It’s beautiful,” he said with keen enjoy- 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 


241 


ment, “but I don’t see any sight of our Pirate, 
do you?” 

“Maybe he’s been detained by the town con¬ 
stable,” giggled Alice, with laughing refer¬ 
ence to the one and only policeman that 
Meadowbrook possessed. “It’s not polite of 
him to disappoint us again.” 

“Maybe it’s a hoax, just as I said,” persisted 
Gabriel, trying to look indifferent. “You know 
I told you-” 

“Yes, yes, we know you did,” Hugh put in 
feelingly. “Gay, if you’ve told us once, you’ve 
told us a hundred times, so we certainly can’t 
say that we haven’t been warned by your 
gloomy suggestion that it’s a practical joke.” 

“Don’t you remember what the last note 
said? ‘Oh, silly scoffers, have belief’ ” quoted 
Polly Wiggles as she shook a doubled-up fist 
at the boys, “and I’m going to follow its advice. 
I think you’re mean to be so—so-” 

—“spoil-sportish and wet-blanketish as not 
to believe in pirates roaming about Meadow- 
brook,” finished Billy with a look of amuse¬ 
ment at his cousin. “Cheer up, Woggsie, if 





242 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

nary a one shows up, I’ll doll up in a red sash 
and gilt ear-rings myself.” 

The girls, in spite of their disappointment, 
couldn’t help giggling as, with a low flourish, 
he backed away, warbling theatrically: 

“I am a Pirate King,” 

at the top of his lungs. 

“Oh, look out,” warned Donald hastily, as 
Billy, forgetting all about the downward slope 
of the ground, backed with more haste than 
grace into the table-rock. 

His song stopped with a startled “Ouch,” as 
he lost his footing completely, and went tum¬ 
bling head over heels down the mossy bank to¬ 
ward the brook, where he scranibled up with a 
comical expression of surprise on his face. 

“Look-a-here,” he began eagerly, “just see 
what I’ve found.” 

“Is it a p-pirate?” asked Polly Wiggles anx¬ 
iously, overcome with curiosity. And not wait¬ 
ing for an answer, the entire group hurried 
down to see what Billy’s discovery might be. 

There, in the shadow of the rock, was spread 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 


243 

a white table-cloth, and on it in a semicircle 
were placed thirteen bright-red baskets. To the 
handle of each basket a card had been fastened, 
on which was neatly inscribed in red ink, 
“With the compliments of the Pirate Chief.” 

“A picnic supper, just what we’ve been 
longing for,” squealed Polly Wiggles as she 
hastily investigated the contents of a basket. 
“Doesn’t it look good?” 

With a sandwich in one hand and a pickle 
in the other she gave an impromptu war-dance 
about the rock, in which the others joined en¬ 
thusiastically. 

“Here, you young savages,” Aunt Elsie 
laughed as she spread the cloth over the rock, 
transforming it into a very respectable table, 
“come, group yourselves about the table.” 

“And eat as much as you are able.” Grand¬ 
father Carr capped the sentence neatly as he 
picked up a basket and sank down cross-legged 
on the moss. 

“Well, that jolly old Pirate has certainly 
done himself proud,” Billy began as he un¬ 
rolled a package of cold chicken, sandwiches. 


244 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

olives, and a large slice of cake. “Aha, here’s 
the chocolate cake for which my soul yearneth, 
and a goodly wedge it is. He certainly flew to 
carry out my wishes.” 

“All our wishes, I should think,” added 
Alice as she removed the shell from a hard- 
boiled egg which she regarded with a loving 
expression. “Now if we only had something 
to drink,” she went on with a thoughtful air as 
she gazed at the cold chicken hungrily. “My 
soul yearneth for a drink of something cold 
and wet.” 

Billy stared at her with a teasing smile. “I, 
for one, never drank anything dry,” he re¬ 
joined as he started his supper with gusto. 
“My, these sandwiches are bully! I’m glad he 
provided a lot, for I’m certainly hungry.” 

“My stars! Are you ever anything else?” 
Alice retorted as she watched the sandwiches 
disappear. 

“What do you s’pose this is for?” Wiggles 
raised a vivid face framed in dusky curls as 
she fished up from the bottom of her basket a 
ball of green twine. 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 


245 

“Why, look, the string leads right down to 
the brook,” Donald ejaculated eagerly as he 
jumped up to investigate. “It’s just the color 
of the moss, so no wonder we didn’t notice it.” 
He drew a deep breath of surprise as he fol¬ 
lowed the twine and found the end fastened 
to a big tub of ice-cream, wedged between two 
rocks out in the middle of the stream. Stacked 
about it were bottles of root-beer, cold as ice 
from the water that swirled about them. 

“Is there anything that the dear man didn’t 
think of?” murmured Allan contentedly, as he 
kicked his heels against the moss and con¬ 
sumed his sandwiches with rapidity. 

Jeannette looked up from her plate sud¬ 
denly. “Gay, do you still think it’s a joke?” she 
demanded as she nibbled an olive. 

Gabriel shook a puzzled head. “I don’t 
know what to think,” he confessed candidly. 
“My common sense tells me it can’t be a pirate, 
and yet-” 

“Then unless you believe in fairies, what ex¬ 
planation are you going to give?” Alice asked 
with a slightly belligerent air. 



246 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“There doesn’t seem to be any explanation, 
—that’s the trouble,” Gabriel answered hesi¬ 
tatingly. “You don’t suppose that these things 
could be p-poisoned, do you?” he inquired 
suddenly as he looked about with worried eyes. 

He was entirely unprepared for the shrieks 
of mirth that greeted his remark, and grew red¬ 
der and redder as the others tormented him un¬ 
mercifully. 

“Gay, you certainly are well nicknamed. 
You’re such a— n. cheerful soul,” gurgled Don¬ 
ald, doubling up with laughter. “For good¬ 
ness’ sakes, do stop looking at that cake with 
longing eyes, and eat it. Hark, what’s that?” 

“That” was the rustling of the branches on 
the trail above them. And as they glanced up 
uncertainly, the head of a coal-black horse ap¬ 
peared, guided by an invisible hand. Then the 
whole horse and rider came into view, and eyes 
and mouths opened in breathless astonish¬ 
ment. From bandanna-bound head to high 
black boots, the horseman was as perfectly at¬ 
tired a pirate as any they had ever beheld in 
story or picture-book. Hoop-rings swung from 



THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 


247 

his ears, while a black mask covered his face 
completely. He wore a black-velvet bolero suit, 
and through the red sash at his waist was thrust 
the handle of a dagger. 

“Don’t be frightened and don’t move,” he 
cautioned in a deep voice as Donald and Billy 
started to their feet. “I merely have a message 
for you. I will meet you all again if you follow 
these final directions, after which the mystery 
will be entirely solved.” 

As he spoke he tossed a red envelope into 
the midst of the circle, and before they had re¬ 
covered from their astonishment he had 
wheeled his horse and made off at a rapid trot 
down the trail, leaving the group to stare in 
startled silence at the fluttering envelope. 

With a quick movement Polly Wiggles 
reached for it, ripped it open, and read aloud: 

“The Pirate Chief and trusty crew, 

Invite you all, each one of you. 

To have a jolly time most gay, 

Upon this coming Labor Day. 

At twilight hour when clocks strike eight. 

At Polly Wiggles’, all must wait; 


248 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

My messenger will meet you there, 

And to our Pirate Den you’ll fare. 

You safe will be where e’er he goes, 

But each must dress in pirate clothes.” 

Polly Wiggles held out the paper dramati¬ 
cally and shook it under Gabriel’s nose. 

“There,” she exulted, her cheeks flaming 
with excitement, “after seeing the Pirate at last, 
do you still think it’s all a joke?” 

Gabriel stared hard at the paper, and then, 
with a gesture of surrender, he flung out his 
hands. 

“To tell the truth, Polly Wiggles,” he ac¬ 
knowledged solemnly, “I don’t know what to 
think at all. But count me in on the pirate 
party. Only I do hope,” he ended soberly, 
“that we all won’t be kidnapped and held for 
ransom. Now do hand over that note and let 
me see it with my own eyes.” 


CHAPTER FIFTEEN 


THE PROGRESSIVE DINNER 



ITH many happy times the summer 
skipped along, until, as Jet mourn¬ 
fully declared, “September days 


and school days were just around the corner.” 

The girls worked away at the cooking-les¬ 
sons like busy bees, and progressed so rapidly 
that one morning in late August Cubby went 
about with a little basket, delivering pink notes 
to six astonished lads. 

They did not lose much time tearing- open 
the envelopes and reading the rhyme inside, 
which Polly Wiggles had written and Marion 
had copied in her very best handwriting: 

“If you want to learn our secret, as you do without 
a doubt, 

Be at Alice’s on Thursday, prompt at five, and you’ll 
find out. 


249 


250 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

For at last you’ll solve the mystery of the M. S. G. 
that night, 

And you’ll have a jolly evening ,—if youll bring 
your appetite/* 

Polly Wiggles had announced with a giggle 
that the R. S. V. P. at the bottom of each cor¬ 
respondence card stood for ‘'Refreshments 
Served Very Promptly,’’ which only served to 
whet the boys’ curiosity. 

However, not to be outdone by the girls, 
they put their heads together and the postman 
on his rounds next day left a note at The Lilacs 
which read: 

‘With the greatest expectation. 

We accept your invitation, 

M. S. G., 

And with pleasure very hearty. 

We’ll attend the coming party. 

As you’ll see. 

Oh, your note was tantalizing. 

We’re not certain what surprising 
[Thing we’ll view; 

But if we are asked to dinner. 

Well, each appetite’s a winner. 

Honest true.” 


THE PROGRESSIVE DINNER 251 

When Thursday afternoon at last rolled 
around, four houses along the avenue were 
scenes of feverish activity. 

Mrs. Maxfield confided confidentially to 
Mrs. Eaton, in a short chat over the telephone, 
that Alice had made at least six marketing- 
trips to the store. 

“It’s the same way here,’’ Mrs. Eaton as¬ 
sured her with a quick smile at the recollec¬ 
tion. “Jeannette and Polly Wiggles go about 
the house as if the cares of a nation were on 
their shoulders. They murmur, ‘potatoes, 
parsley, lamb chops, and corn,’ sotto voce, un¬ 
til the whole family have acquired the habit. 
Why, even Cubby is so filled with anxiety, that 
she pattered into the girls’ room at twelve 
o’clock last night to wake them and inquire if 
they’d remembered to get petticoats for the 
chops.” 

“Petticoats? What did the child mean?” 
gasped Mrs. Maxfield. 

“She meant the paper frills to put on the 
chop-bones. She always calls them lace petti¬ 
coats. But really I am astonished at the prog- 


252 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

ress the girls have made. I believe the dinner 
\vill be excellent, and the boys very much sur¬ 
prised. It tvas a good plan of Mandy’s, having 
each girl prepare her own course and try it out 
on the family ahead of time.” 

“Well, I know Alice has tried hers out,” 
Mrs, Maxfield returned feelingly. “We’ve had 
the same kind of soup every night this week, 
and I must confess I’m tired of it.” 

Nevertheless, at quarter of five Alice was 
again at the soup kettle, giving last stirs to the 
creamy contents which sent out an appetizing 
odor all over the big house. 

“Just taste,” she ordered breathlessly, flying 
out to the sun porch where her mother was 
quietly reading. 

“Isn’t that against the rules, too?” smiled 
Mrs. Maxfield, obediently sampling the con¬ 
tents of the cup her daughter thrust at her. “It’s 
delicious, my dear. Seasoned just right, and 
thick and creamy enough to suit the Queen’s 
taste.” 

“I’m so relieved,” sighed Alice, mopping 
her brow with the big gingham apron that cov- 


THE PROGRESSIVE DINNER 


253 

ered her dainty blue dress. “No, it isn’t against 
the rules for you to look or taste, but it wouldn’t 
be fair to help me at all, even with setting the 
table. And that reminds me, do come out and 
see my decorations.” 

The idea of arranging special table decora¬ 
tions that would suit the great occasion had 
been Kitty’s, and the girls had entered into the 
plan with enthusiasm, each keeping her 
scheme a surprise for the others. 

So when Mrs. Maxfield followed her daugh¬ 
ter into the dining-room, where the table with 
its damask cloth and gleaming crystal and sil¬ 
ver was all in readiness for the coming guests, 
she eyed the center decorations with real in¬ 
terest, and had to admit that the idea was novel 
to say the least. For Alice had used the kitchen 
furniture from her dolls’ house, and, in place 
of the conventional linen centerpiece, the tiny 
refrigerator and stove had been realistically 
arranged upon a square of blue-and-white oil¬ 
cloth, which represented a linoleum floor. Five 
small dolls dressed in gingham gowns and 
aprons were grouped about a table on which 


254 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

an assortment of plates and bowls had been 
placed. A larger colored doll stood by the 
stove, with one dusky hand resting on a kettle. 
Alice’s clever fingers had attired her in a neat 
black dress, but about her head was tied a gay- 
colored bit of silk. 

“It’s our cooking-class, with Mandy teach¬ 
ing us,” she explained most unnecessarily, for 
the little scene spoke for itself. 

A violent peal at the door-bell sent her scur¬ 
rying back to the kitchen to remove her soiled 
apron and give a final stir to the soup, while 
her mother hurried to answer the bell’s insist¬ 
ent summons. 

From then on, the fun really began. 

The boys had come in a body, and as they 
walked decorously up the front walk of Sweet 
Briar, they were unexpectedly confronted by 
the girls, who, from behind the screening rose¬ 
bushes, had been eyeing their solemn progress 
up the street with ill-concealed amusement. 
For though dressed in their usual afternoon 
garb of linen knickers and dark coats, each- 
boyish head was topped by the tallest and most 


THE PROGRESSIVE DINNER 255 

impressive high hat that Allan had been able 
to make with the aid of black crepe paper, 
cardboard, and glue-pot; while each right 
gloved hand jauntily swung a cane to and fro. 
But the crowning touch was the monocle 
through which each lad loftily surveyed the 
world, and to which was attached a dangling 
black ribbon. 

“My word,” choked Wiggles impishly, as 
she pretended to be overcome by the sight, “if 
it isn’t the Prince of Wales and his body¬ 
guard, touring the States.” 

“No, ’tis my long-lost cousin, the Count-of- 
No-Account,” gushed Jeannette as she ad¬ 
vanced toward Dick with high-held hand. “He 
was snatched from his cradle when a mere 
babe, and I have not seen him since. But I 
knew him instantly by the six freckles on his 
nose,” she explained with an artistic quaver 
in her voice as she touched her eyes delicately 
with her handkerchief and gave a plaintive 
sniff, while Mrs. Maxfield stood shaking with 
laughter in the doorway. 

Billy presented six handwritten calling- 


256 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

cards with a most impressive air. “Is the Lady 
Alice receiving to-day?” he inquired formally, 
without moving a muscle of his face for fear 
of losing his monocle. “Will you please tell 
her that William the Conqueror, Allan-a-Dale, 
Richard Coeur de Lion, Sir Hugo the Red, the 
Marquis de Le Clare, and Prince Donald, are 
calling?” he requested grandly as he intro¬ 
duced the boys in turn. 

There was a stifled giggle from the hall, as 
Alice hurried forward with her best society 
manner; and then all formality was forgotten 
in a hurry as she led the way to the dining¬ 
room. To say the boys were surprised would 
be putting it mildly, and Mrs. Maxfield, from 
the adjoining library, smiled at the gabble of 
laughter and chatter that floated to her ears as 
Alice’s centerpiece was admired and explana¬ 
tions quickly followed. 

“Now will you ever say again that girls 
can’t keep a secret?” Wiggles gibed as she 
glanced triumphantly about the table. 

“No, we acknowledge we’re overcome,” 
Donald admitted generously as he clasped his 


THE PROGRESSIVE DINNER 


257 


hands in mock admiration and gazed bliss¬ 
fully at the grapefruit garnished with cherries 
that Alice placed before him. “Alice, you 
don’t mean to say you scalloped these by hand, 
did you?” he demanded with a serious stare at 
the fluted edge of his fruit as he turned it round 
and round for inspection. 

“ ’Course she didn’t, Don. She sent them to 
the store and had them picoted,” Dick grinned 
as he rapidly made way with his cherries. “Say, 
girls, how did you like our toppers?” 

“Your what?” echoed Marion with a mysti¬ 
fied look at Dick’s teasing face. 

“Our toppers. Don’t you understand Eng¬ 
lish? That’s what Don called ’em, anyway. 
I’d call ’em stovepipes, myself.” 

“He means hats,” translated Polly Wiggles 
quickly, as she saw Marion’s look of bewilder¬ 
ment. “Well, to use a slangy expression, ‘you 
certainly looked high hat.’ Who thought of 
those, for goodness’ sake?” 

“Donald, of course. He tells us all the latest 
fashion notes from ‘dear ole Lunnon,’ ” Hugh 
announced as Alice removed the plates. “Why, 


258 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

I believe over there even the babies wear them 
in their carriages.” 

“Prams.—not carriages,” corrected Donald 
with a good-natured grin at the teasing, for 
they all loved to torment him about what they 
insisted upon calling his “English accent.” 

Billy leaned back in his chair with an ec¬ 
static smile as Alice placed a plate of creamed 
celery soup before him. “How relieved I am,” 
he murmured hungrily. “That grapefruit was 
delicious but not very filling, and I’ve been 
wondering if something more substantial were 
to come. Say, Alice, you never made this be- 
ootiful creamy soup all ‘by self’!” 

“I certainly did,” Alice assured him with 
dignity as she passed the crackers. 

“Well it’s great,” Billy complimented her 
with evident enjoyment as his soup disap¬ 
peared in a twinkling. “After reading the last 
line in your invitation, I went on starvation 
diet in honor of this event.” 

“But Alice, you never made this, wearing 
that spiffy blue dress,—now ’fess up,—did 
you?” inquired Allan quickly. 


THE PROGRESSIVE DINNER 


259 

“Certainly she did. Lady Alice could cook 
and serve a twelve-course dinner without spill¬ 
ing a drop. Whereas a certain other person 
that I know of can’t even whisper the word 
‘kitchen,’ without finding a grease spot on her 
frock,” Billy teased with a laughing glance at 
his cousin, who sat opposite. 

Polly Wiggles made a face at him. “Oh, 
don’t mind me at all,” she said in deeply in¬ 
jured tones, although her eyes were dancing. 
“Only after an unkind slam like that, I don’t 
think Billy deserves any dinner at our house. 
Do you. Jet?” 

Jeannette surveyed her tall cousin thought¬ 
fully. “No, indeed,” she rejoined calmly as she 
exchanged amused smiles with her sister. “Still, 
no doubt he feels that he has eaten enough 
after all the soup he’s put away.” 

“But isn’t the dinner party here?” broke in 
Hugh, looking very much bewildered. 

Kitty shook her head provokingly. “O my, 
no! Only the first course. You haven’t given 
us a chance to fully explain, but as this is given 
by progressive girls, it’s a progressive dinner 


26 o POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 


party, and each one of us has prepared a 
course. We go to The Lilacs next for the din¬ 
ner. That was the hardest course to cook, so 
Jet and Wiggles took it together.” 

Polly Wiggles jumped to her feet. “ ’Scuse 
us, Alice, but we’ll need to scurry,” she said, 
turning to her hostess, “for it will take half an 
hour to have everything ready for you. So Jet 
and I will skip home, if you don’t mind.” She 
started toward the library as she spoke, to say 
good-night to Mrs. Maxfield, but Billy forc¬ 
ibly detained her as he sank to his knees in the 
doorway. 

“Beloved Woggsie,” he apologized rapidly, 
“have pity on a poor famished cousin who 
kneels at thy feet and implores the boon of a 
word with thee.” 

“Seems to me you’re having several,” Wig¬ 
gles reminded him pointedly as she nudged 
Jeannette. “What do you say. Jet? Shall we 
listen to the pleas of this—^this—er ” 

—“unworthy object,” murmured Billy 
meekly, “whom the pangs of a ravenous hun¬ 
ger are devouring.” 



THE PROGRESSIVE DINNER 261 

“What? After two plates of soup? Well, 
knave, what have you to say for yourself?” 
Jeannette inquired with a giggle of amuse¬ 
ment, for Billy did look very funny with his 
tragic air and dangling monocle. 

“You’d better get up, or you’ll find your 
white knickers are all stained with floor pol¬ 
ish,” Alice called out warningly, but Billy 
shook his head with a stubborn air. 

“Who could think of knickers at a time like 
this?” he demanded feelingly, with a reproach¬ 
ful glance at Alice as he clutched Wiggles’ 
sleeve so she could not escape. 

“Oh Curly Locks, Curly Locks, here at your feet, 
I offer apologies; please let me eat 
The fine dainty dishes prepared by you two, 

And I’ll wipe the dishes for Jet and for you,” 

he improvised rapidly with a beseeching look 
at Polly Wiggles, while Mrs. Maxfield peeped 
in to enjoy the little tableaux. 

“It’s a bargain,” agreed Polly Wiggles as 
he jumped to his feet. 

“And we’ll see that you keep it,” added Jean- 


262 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

nette as she followed her sister through the 
back door. 

When the others trooped into The Lilacs 
half an hour later, they found everything in 
readiness for them. Such a delicious odor 
wafted in from the kitchen, where Jet was pre¬ 
siding over the stove, that Dick had to be forc¬ 
ibly restrained from making a personal inves¬ 
tigation, but Donald and Allan hurried him 
into his seat in short order, in spite of his plain¬ 
tive protests of wanting to be useful. 

However, his complaints ceased promptly 
when Polly Wiggles served each one with a 
generously-heaped plate wreathed in water¬ 
cress, and Gabriel’s eyes sparkled as he stole a 
look at the tempting sight. 

The lamb chops, broiled a delicate brown, 
with the “lace petticoats” in full evidence, the 
golden-brown potatoes that were a picture of 
perfection, and the tender corn which proved 
to be sweet as sugar, all combined to make a 
dinner that would whet the most delicate appe¬ 
tite. And it must be confessed that there was 
nothing wrong with any of the appetites at that 


THE PROGRESSIVE DINNER 263 

dinner table, for it really seemed as if all the 
boys had followed Billy’s idea of fasting ahead 
of time. 

“I’m so glad I came,” exclaimed Dick as 
Polly Wiggles hospitably passed about the 
puffy muffins. “This is the best club I ever 
heard of, and I only hope you’ll all be active 
members; the more active the better. In fact, 
why not have a dinner every week? Three 
cheers for the Mystic-Star Girls, I say. They 
certainly mystified us, and they’re star cooks.” 

Donald leaned down to whisper a confiden¬ 
tial aside in Polly Wiggles’ ear as he broke 
open a muffin. “Any starch in these?” he in¬ 
quired seriously, but with a twinkle in his dark 
eyes which belied his sober expression. 

Polly Wiggles gave him a mischievous 
glance. “Not a bit, and I actually remembered 
to light the oven this time,” she murmured un¬ 
der her breath. “How do you like our center- 
piece r 

The centerpiece in question was a large doll 
of Cubby’s dressed in full pirate costume, and 
they all admired it enthusiastically. 


264 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“Goodness me,” exclaimed Jet as she again 
passed the muffins which had proved so pop¬ 
ular that they melted like snow in July, “how 
you boys can eat! We made four dozen muf¬ 
fins, and Allan has just taken the last. You’ll 
have to stop now.” 

“Yes, do, or not one of you will want a thing 
at my house,” Marion urged, as if she herself 
were not eating her fourth. 

“Oh, don’t worry about their appetites,” 
Alice chimed in with a quick look at Billy’s 
empty plate. “I do believe they’d eat the chop 
bones and potato skins if we didn’t watch 
’em. They act starved.” 

“That, Miss Maxfield, goes to prove that 
your efforts are appreciated,” Billy explained 
loftily as he reluctantly finished the last scrap 
of potato. “And anyway, me che-ild, don’t you 
know that the healthiest part of a potato is in 
the skin? Thank goodness, my appetite is not 
one of the finicky kind that has to be coaxed 
along with dainty nibbles of frilly stuff. I much 
prefer good plain food,—and lots of it,” he 
added as an afterthought. 



THE PROGRESSIVE DINNER 


265 


“A good cold joint and a wedge of pie, 

Well suits my appetite, so say I; 

For fancy dishes I’ll show no grief. 

If you’ll serve me pie, and a joint of beef,” 

hummed Donald under his breath. 

“Yes, a wedge of pie sounds so much more 
filling than just a piece of pie,” Billy agreed 
musingly. “By the way, speaking of pie, what 
comes next, Woggsie?” 

“This,” returned Polly Wiggles, dangling a 
checked apron before his eyes, while Jet 
crammed a dish-towel in his unresisting hand. 

The hall clock had chimed seven by the time 
that Billy had laboriously polished the last 
plate, and, under the girls’ strict orders, rinsed 
out the dish-towels in boiling water, while the 
other boys choked with mirth as he stalked 
about the kitchen with the apron flapping at 
his heels. 

“Work, for the night is coming,” he war¬ 
bled cheerfully as he hung the last dish-towel 
on the rack and fumbled with the strings of 
his apron. “How do I get this pesky thing off, 
anyway? It’s in a dreadful knot.” 


266 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“Why not wear it right on over to Marion’s 
so as to be in readiness,” suggested Donald 
wickedly with a wink at Allan. 

“Get out. Who said I was going to do dishes 
there, too?” grumbled Billy, yanking viciously 
at his apron as the strings refused to give. 
“Why, Fve wiped glasses, and polished silver, 
and rinsed dish-towels without a murmur. 
Here the girls have henpecked me, and you 
fellows have stood about, idly criticizing my 
maiden efforts, while I’ve worked like a slave 
until my appetite-” 

“Appetite?” interrupted Polly Wiggles with 
a dazed look at her cousin. “If you still.have an 
appetite, Will-yum Gerard, after the dinner 
you ate, we’d better feed you on dried apples 
and water.” 

“It’s the hard manual labor I’ve been do¬ 
ing,” persisted Billy as he rolled down his 
sleeves and donned his coat. “This is worse 
than being little Tommy Tucker, and singing 
for my supper. What’s singing compared with 
wringing out scalding-hot dish-towels? I’ll 



THE PROGRESSIVE DINNER 267 

have you understand that I only did this for 
love of you.” 

“But look at the work we did for love of 
you,” Jeannette retorted as she closed the ice¬ 
box door. 

“I hope it wasn’t ‘Love’s Labor Lost,’ ” gig¬ 
gled Polly Wiggles as she hurried into the pan¬ 
try with the last of the dishes. 

“There, I guess we’re ready,” Jeannette an¬ 
nounced at last with a sweeping glance about 
the spotless kitchen. 

“Billy hasn’t put away the dish-pan yet,” 
murmured Alice sweetly, and as Billy made a 
dive for it, she skipped out after the other girls. 


CHAPTER SIXTEEN 


LEAPFROG 


T he fruit salad, nut-bread sandwiches, 
and cocoa at Marion’s were welcome 
additions to the progressive dinner, 
and, to judge by the rapidity with which the 
things disappeared, no one would ever have 
supposed that the boys had tasted a morsel of 
food all day. 

“I do love cocoa with slathers of whipped 
cream floating on top,” beamed Polly Wiggles 
luxuriously as she took a lump of sugar. “And 
with this delicious nut bread, Marion, it’s sim¬ 
ply yummy,” which was a word of Wiggles’ 
own coining to express anything she particu¬ 
larly enjoyed. 

Donald excused himself while the merry 
chatter was still going on about the table, and 
ran home on an errand after a mysterious con- 

268 


LEAPFROG 


269 

ference with the other boys out in the hall. It 
piqued the girls’ curiosity to hear the chuckles 
that came from the group, and Kitty, as she 
prepared to scurry away to make ready for the 
coming guests, cast a curious glance in their 
direction. 

“What do you s’pose they’re whispering 
about?” she hissed in Polly Wiggles’ ear as 
she stopped for a last admiring sniff at the cen¬ 
ter decoration of asters which Marion had ar¬ 
ranged along the white cloth so that the flowers 
spelled the initials, M. S. G. 

“I’m sure I don’t know,” murmured Wig¬ 
gles as she helped Marion gather up the dishes; 
and then, as the boys good-naturedly joined in 
clearing the table, the matter was forgotten. 

Kitty had gone to a great deal of trouble to 
fix her decorations, but she was repaid for all 
her work by the chorus of praise that greeted 
her as the boys and girls viewed the attractive 
table. 

Suspended from the electric light, over the 
central bowl of golden dahlias, hung a five- 
pointed star made from silver paper. Ropes of 


270 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

smaller stars festooned down to each corner 
of the table and were held in place by knots of 
yellow ribbon. In addition, Kitty had made 
star-shaped baskets as favors, and as these were 
filled with nuts of her own salting, they proved 
very popular. 

Donald slipped into his seat unobtrusively, 
just as the hostess wheeled around the tea- 
wagon. He was decidedly out of breath, but he 
exclaimed with admiration as Kitty served 
them with dessert, for the star-shaped choco¬ 
late puddings against the yellow-lustre plates 
were very pretty. They certainly did look 
tempting, for a generous helping of whipped 
cream had been piled on each, while a scarlet 
cherry topped every snowy mound. 

“Gabriel, what are you waiting for?” de¬ 
manded Allan as he started his dessert. “You 
act as if you had been hypnotized by that 
cherry you’ve been staring at for the past five 
minutes.” 

Gabriel roused himself with a start. “It just 
reminded me of the partridge-berries I prom¬ 
ised to bring Kitty,” he explained hastily as he 


LEAPFROG 


271 


went in search of his specimen-box which he 
had left in the hall. 

“What are you going to do with them?” 
asked Marion curiously as she helped herself 
to fudge. 

“I want to fill a glass bowl with them, the 
way you see them fixed with moss in the flor¬ 
ists’ windows,” Kitty responded as she leaned 
over Gabriel’s shoulder to admire the berries. 
Then she drew back hastily with a startled 
scream, which was echoed even louder by 
Polly Wiggles, as something shiny and green 
flopped out of the box in Gabriel’s hands, gave 
one leap across the table, and came to rest with 
a hoarse croak in the midst of the pudding and 
cream over which Wiggles’ spoon was poised. 

“Oh, Gay” she faltered, edging quickly be¬ 
hind Donald, while the entire group sat frozen 
with astonishment, gazing at the large frog 
half-covered by the cream and chocolate mix¬ 
ture. 

Gabriel turned scarlet and dropped his box, 
berries and all, under the table. 

“Violet won’t hurt you, honestly, Polly Wig- 


272 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

gles,” he assured her at once. “She’s very gen¬ 
tle. I found her on my way over, and forgot 
all about her.” 

“V-violet?” echoed Polly Wiggles faintly, 
her eyes intent on the popping black ones of 
the frog. “Why Violet? For goodness’ sake, 
somebody, do catch that c-creature before it 
jumps at me again.” 

“I named her Violet,” Gabriel announced 
with dignity amid the laughter of the boys, 
“because she was surrounded by violet leaves 
when I found her. Oh-h, look out!” 

He had leaned over to grasp his pet as he 
spoke, but Violet was agile, and had no desire 
to be put back in a perforated box again. So 
with one long, straight spring, she hopped 
right from the middle of the pudding over to 
Marion’s shoulder, leaving a dab of whipped 
cream on the girl’s dress in her flight; and be¬ 
fore Marion’s shriek had died away, Violet had 
landed in the center of a silver rake-dish on the 
buffet, where she sat croaking dismally, pos¬ 
sibly thinking that she was on a lily-pad. 



Something shiny and green gave one leap across 

THE Page 271. 
























LEAPFROG 


273 


And if the boys needed exercise to help di¬ 
gest their dinner, they certainly got it as they 
dashed madly about the room in a wild scram¬ 
ble, while the girls, with all dignity forgotten, 
mounted dining-room chairs and watched the 
chase with squeals of nervousness and laugh¬ 
ter. 

“Oh, do be careful! You’ll step on her,” Ga¬ 
briel warned, dancing up and down with ex¬ 
citement as Donald made a sudden dart at his 
pet. “Don’t hurt her, whatever you do. I don’t 
believe so much excitement is good for her 
nerves, anyw'ay. Just look how she’s panting.” 

“Whew! Just look how I’m panting, too. But 
that doesn’t worry you in the least,” Dick 
scoffed as he crawled from under the table and 
fanned himself with the edge of the table-cloth 
while he mopped his flushed face. “I know the 
excitement of crawling about the dining-room 
floor is bad for my nerves,—and my temper, 
too. Oh, there she goes under the serving- 
table.” 

Billy caught her at last in a corner. “What 


274 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

shall I do with this beast, anyway?” he in¬ 
quired briskly as the girls clambered down 
from their chairs. 

“I don’t care what you do with her, but don’t 
let her hop at me,” shivered Kitty, eyeing the 
frog uneasily. 

“No, you don’t any of you care,” flashed out 
Gabriel bitterly as he took his pet with tender 
hands. “I don’t suppose one of you would care 
a bit if poor Violet had had a heart attack or 
been smothered by all that whipped cream.” 
He stalked out to the kitchen as he spoke and 
rinsed Violet under the faucet, and then reluc¬ 
tantly carried her out and put her in the garden 
where she croaked her thanks. 

By the time he returned, something like or¬ 
der had been restored to the dining-room, and 
Kitty, with shaking shoulders, brought in a 
fresh pudding for Polly Wiggles. 

“Isn’t it lucky I made an extra one?” she 
laughed, with a quick look at Gabriel as he 
resumed his seat with dignity. “Otherwise poor 
Wiggles would have had to go without.” 

“She could have had frog’s legs instead,” 


LEAPFROG 


27 S 


Donald suggested with a chuckle. “Gabriel 
came all prepared to give us a treat.” 

Polly Wiggles made a grimace of disgust. 
“No, thank you,” she answered quickly as she 
started her fresh pudding. “I’ll leave all the 
frogs for Gay to eat.” 

“Eat Violet?” exploded Gabriel in horror, 
his black eyes flashing at the idea. “Well, I 
should say I wouldn’t. What do you think I 
am,—a cannibal? But I’m dreadfully sorry. 
Wiggles, that she startled you. It does seem as 

if-” 

“—as if all your pets have a strange fond¬ 
ness for Wiggles, who doesn’t seem to return 
the affection,” grinned Dick. “Gay, you’re a 
quiet little fellow to take to a dinner-party, I 
must say. Don’t you know it’s not pretty man¬ 
ners to play leapfrog about the dining-room 
table?” 

“There’s nothing about a frog to make any 
one afraid,” Gabriel retorted, as he glanced 
about at the mirthful faces. “Everything would 
have been all right if you’d all sat quietly in 
your places-” 




276 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“—and let Violet play tag from shoulder to 
shoulder, I suppose,” Marion mockingly sug¬ 
gested as she tossed back her hair with a scorn¬ 
ful gesture. 

“When Gay grows up,” Billy prophesied 
solemnly, “and goes on the exploring trips he’s 
always talking about, instead of sending roses 
and chocolates to the girls he knows, he’ll send 
them crocodiles, or pretty boa-constrictors tied 
up in true-love knots.” 

“Ugh,” ejaculated Alice with a shudder. 
“How awful!” 

“But frogs aren’t dreadful,” persisted Ga¬ 
briel hotly; “they’re nice clean pets. I’m sure 
nothing could be cleaner than a frog, for it’s 
in the water most of the time.” He broke off 
abruptly at the long-drawn wail of a horn out¬ 
side that sent the girls hurrying to the window. 

“There, that’s Sam with the car,” Donald 
announced with satisfaction. “And now that 
this jolly progressive dinner is over, we’re go¬ 
ing to progress to the boys’ share in the enter¬ 
tainment. When I skipped out that time I com¬ 
mandeered the car, with Mother as chaperon. 


LEAPFROG 


277 

She ’phoned to your homes for permission, and 
we’re going into town to see the benefit per¬ 
formance of ‘The Pirates of Penzance,’ if you 
all are willing.” 

And, needless to say, no one objected. 


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 


ON THE WAY TO THE PIRATE’s DEN 

O UT in the old-fashioned garden the 
shadows were deepening into the 
dusk of an early September evening. 
Fireflies had already lighted their lanterns 
and were flitting to and fro over the broad 
lawn, trying to rival the brilliant gleam that 
shone from the up-stairs windows of The Li¬ 
lacs. For up in the Daisy room five girls were 
donning pirate garb, and out from the half¬ 
open door floated shrieks of amusement and 
excited giggles that made Mrs. Eaton smile in 
sympathy as she hurried up the staircase. 

“Girls, the boys are down on the porch im¬ 
patiently waiting,” she called softly. “Is there 
anything I can do for you ?” 

It was Wiggles who responded, and her 
voice was muffled, as she was bent over the bu¬ 
reau, searching madly for the scarlet sash that 

278 


ON THE WAY TO THE PIRATE’S DEN 279 

would give the final touch to the pirate cos¬ 
tume she was wearing. 

“Oh, Mother, will you please fix Marion’s 
tie?” she begged urgently, as she brought to 
light the scarlet ribbon and wound it about her 
slender figure, with a jaunty knot at one side. 
She skipped over to fling the door open as she 
spoke, and pulled her mother into the room. 

“How do you like the five ‘Piratesses,’ as 
Dick calls us?” she demanded eagerly as she 
gave her mother an impetuous hug. “Just 
look.” She made a sweeping gesture that in¬ 
cluded the entire room, and Mrs. Eaton obe¬ 
diently glanced about. 

Over by the dressing-table Alice was fixing 
glittering brass curtain-rings so that they dan¬ 
gled like enormous ear-rings at each side of 
her rosy face, and formed a striking contrast 
with the purple ribbon, bound turban fashion 
about her head. 

Kitty was perched cross-legged on the edge 
of the bed, like a small Buddha, patiently ty¬ 
ing and retying the apricot neckerchief she was 
wearing, and surveying the results in a hand 


280 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

mirror she clutched in one hand; while Jean¬ 
nette, with her long curls tucked up under a 
vivid orange bandanna, was giving last 
touches to the jade-green silk that she had 
wound about Marion’s ruddy locks, which, 
true to promise, had been bobbed the day be¬ 
fore. 

All five girls were wearing suits of black 
sateen, with short bolero jackets over white 
blouses, and baggy knee-breeches; while the 
brilliant and varied shades of the ties and ban¬ 
dannas added a vivid splash of color that was 
most effective. 

“Don’t we look gay and festive?’’ beamed 
Alice with a final pat to her purple sash, as she 
jumped to her feet and twirled about so Mrs. 
Eaton could inspect her from top to toe. 

“How do you like our boots. Mother?” 
broke in Wiggles, spinning around as she 
knotted a scarlet bandanna over her curls, and 
thrusting out a foot for her mother to see. 
“Wasn’t Alice clever to suggest them?” 

“She certainly was,” Mrs. Eaton agreed sin¬ 
cerely as she admired the knee-high boots of 


ON THE WAY TO THE PIRATE’S DEN 281 

black oilcloth which each girl was proudly 
wearing, and which added the final touch to 
the picturesque costumes. 

“They really weren’t a bit hard to make, and 
yet they give the effect we want,” Alice ex¬ 
plained, as she strode about the room to exhibit 
the boots in all their gleaming black glory. 

“Wait until you see the effect of the boys,” 
Mrs. Eaton advised with a sparkle of amuse¬ 
ment in her eyes as she deftly knotted Marion’s 
green tie and coaxed it to lie flat. “They are 
the worst-looking gang of ragamuffins you 
can imagine.” 

It was a disreputable crowd, it was true, that 
jumped up with a clatter to greet the girls as 
they scampered down the stairs and out on the 
veranda. Billy’s left sleeve hung in tattered 
ribbons to his elbow; Dick capered nimbly 
about in a pair of ancient boots with flapping 
soles, while Hugh had patches of every de¬ 
scription sewed all over his costume. Olive¬ 
skinned Gabriel, with his black hair swathed 
in a red silk handkerchief, beneath which dan¬ 
gled huge gilt ear-rings, looked every inch a 


282 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

brigand, as the girls enthusiastically assured 
him; and Allan’s and Donald’s polished rid¬ 
ing-boots, and the brass coins that trimmed 
their boleroes and tinkled with every step they 
took, came in for admiring comment in spite 
of Dick’s jeers. 

“Aw, who ever saw fancy-looking pirates 
like you?” he derided scornfully as he bran¬ 
dished a wicked-looking wooden knife and 
challenged Donald to a duel. “Now Bill and 
Hugh and I, all tattered and patched, look far 
more realistic. Don’t you think so?” he de¬ 
manded as Mr. Carr stepped through the 
French doors out on the porch. 

“If you really want to know my opinion, I 
think you look like a band of desperadoes,” 
Mr. Carr responded with a chuckle as he 
cocked the old slouch hat, tastefully trimmed 
with white-cardboard skulls and cross-bones, 
on his head at a rakish angle. 

“It’s time for the pirate messenger to come 
creeping-creeping up the path,” hissed Billy 
in a low thrilling tone. 


ON THE WAY TO THE PIRATE’S DEN 283 

Kitty stirred uneasily and clutched at Polly 
Wiggles, for something did stir and rustle 
down by the white gate. But it proved to be 
only Boots prowling about in search of moths, 
and she relaxed limply as, with a soft meow, 
the fluffy pussy seated himself on the lowest 
step of the porch and stared with intent green 
eyes through the twilight. 

“Girls, have you your sweaters?” called 
Mrs. Eaton from the music-room. “It may be 
much cooler before you return.” 

“If we ever do return,” muttered Gabriel 
pessimistically. 

“Yes, we have them. Mother,” returned 
Jeannette, “and we—” She broke off hastily at 
an excited pinch from Alice, and peered with 
round-eyed amazement through the dusk. 
What was that long, lumbering shape just 
pausing under the maple-tree in front of the 
house? 

“Mother, Mother,” shrieked Polly Wiggles 
suddenly, as she bounced to her feet after one 
astounded glance and dashed toward the hall. 


284 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“Here’s a great big hay-wagon stopping at our 
gate, and a masked pirate is driving it. Oh, oh, 
oh!” 

“Why, I thought we’d walk, of course,” 
cried Alice rapturously, jumping up from her 
chair for a better view. “Isn’t that Pirate Chief 
a—a— lamb, to think of such a nice surprise?” 

“Oh, I do wonder where we’re going,” con¬ 
tinued Jeannette breathlessly as she raced 
down the path with the others in quick pur- 
' suit. “Isn’t it too bad that Aunt Elsie had an 
engagement for this evening? She would have 
loved a hay-ride.” 

They were still wondering fifteen minutes 
later, as, curled down cozily in the fragrant 
nest of hay, they jogged along a winding coun¬ 
try road. The pirate driver had been most po¬ 
lite in assisting them into the roomy wagon 
and seeing that they were comfortably settled; 
but to the stream of eager questions put to him 
by the excited children, he only shook his head 
from side to side and could not be induced to 
say a word. 

“Not exactly talkative, is he?” whispered 


ON THE WAY TO THE PIRATE’S DEN 285 

Dick in a confidential aside to the others, as he 
jerked his head toward the silent driver. 
“Where do you suppose he’s taking us?” 

“Well, ‘we don’t know where we’re going, 
but we’re on our way,’ ” quoted Polly Wiggles 
with a little giggle as she burrowed deeper into 
the thickly-piled hay. “Isn’t it a gorgeous eve¬ 
ning for a ride?” 

She glanced up as she spoke at the slender 
crescent moon riding like a golden boat in the 
blue of the sky above. Through the interlaced 
branches of the giant fir-trees that arched 
spreading limbs across the road, twinkling 
stars glittered and shone; while mingled with 
the spicy fragrance of the firs was the mellow, 
fruity odor of ripening apples from the neigh¬ 
boring orchards. 

Jeannette gave a bounce of delight and 
sniffed the air with keen enjoyment. “I do love 
this time of year,” she announced enthusiasti¬ 
cally. “It always has such a delicious smell, like 
crispy leaves, and grapes, and Bartlett pears, 
and brush-fires, all mixed together. It makes 
me think of nutting parties and-” 



286 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“School,” Gabriel broke in with a dismal 
groan. “It smells to me just exactly like geogra¬ 
phies, and grammar books, and composition 
papers all mixed together with chalk dust. Oh 
my, how I hate to think about poetry after¬ 
noons, after the peachy time I’ve had with 
Don visiting me all this week. I do wish Mrs. 
MacAllister would stay in New York longer, 
and then he wouldn’t have to go home just yet.” 

“Well, I’m afraid your wish won’t come 
true, because I expect Mother home again to¬ 
morrow,” Donald put in briskly. “I certainly 
had a wonderful time at your house, but I’m so 
anxious to see Dad that the autumn can’t skip 
by fast enough to suit me. I was so disappointed 
when business prevented his return in July, as 
he had planned, and it seems a long time till 
Thanksgiving, when we expect him.” 

“I should think you would be counting the 
days,” Billy assured him as he peered along the 
road intently. “Now I do wonder if this pi¬ 
rate knows his way. Unless my eyes deceive 
me we’ve been riding in a circle all this time.” 


ON THE WAY TO THE PIRATE’S DEN 287 

Billy’s voice rose higher and higher in his 
excitement, and as if to forestall any em¬ 
barrassing questions which he couldn’t—or 
wouldn’t—answer, the pirate produced an as¬ 
sortment of scarlet tin horns and policemen’s 
rattles from under the seat, and the quiet of 
the evening was soon broken by toots and rat¬ 
tles and squeaks and squeals that contrasted 
oddly with the monotonous drone of the tree- 
toads and shrill-voiced katydids. 

Billy, in the middle of a toot, snatched the 
horn from his lips and pointed ahead tri¬ 
umphantly. “There, I told you we were rid¬ 
ing in a circle,’’ he asserted with emphasis as 
he lowered his voice mysteriously, “and we 
are.” 

“What makes you think so?” asked Alice at 
once with a startled glance over her shoulder. 

“Because there’s the very same brook that 
runs through the Glen, as sure as my name is 
Bill Gerard.” 

“There’s an old house somewhere about 
here,” Allan informed them as he twisted 



288 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

about to try to distinguish some familiar 
landmark. “I think it’s around the next bend, 
and no one has lived in it for years.” 

“Well, some one’s in it now,” Kitty cried 
with animation as the hayrwagon swung about 
the corner and they all jostled against one an¬ 
other in laughing confusion. “See, there’s a 
lantern over the gate.” 

“Ugh, whoever would want to live ’way out 
here?” Alice asked with a little shiver of dis¬ 
taste. “Doesn’t it look creepy by the light of, 
the moon?” 

“Maybe it’s haunted.” Gabriel made the 
pleasing suggestion in such a solemn tone of 
voice that they all jumped and squealed. 

“Pleasant thought. However, that light 
looks decidedly human. There is nothing 
very will-o’-the-wispy about a lantern.” Don¬ 
ald returned lightly. 

“I’m glad I don’t have to live here, anyway, 
with nothing but tree-toads and owls to keep 
me company,” Polly Wiggles shuddered as the 
mournful hoot of an owl made them all stir 
uneasily. 


ON THE WAY TO THE PIRATE’S DEN 289 

“Owls are very interesting and intelligent 
birds,” Gabriel assured her quickly. “They 
make fine pets, Wiggles.” 

Polly Wiggles shook her head until her curls 
swayed back and forth. “You may have 
them,” she said fervently, “but Gay Le Clare, 
if you produce an owl on this trip. I’ll—I’ll— 
push you off the hay-wagon,” she ended laugh¬ 
ingly as she shook a doubled-up fist at him. 

The rambling old house, set well back from 
the road and surrounded by the matted lux¬ 
uriance of untrimmed bushes and vines, did 
have an eerie look beneath the faint light of the 
moon. Along the front was a tumbledown 
fence, while a crazy old gate sagged drunkenly 
on its hinges, as if too weak to stand. The path 
leading to the front door was choked and over¬ 
grown with weeds of every description, while 
what had evidently once been a lawn was now 
a wilderness of tangled grasses and prickly 
thistles. 

But it wasn’t the sagging gate, the broken 
fence, the unkept yard, or even the weather- 
stained place itself at which they all stared in 


290 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

speechless silence as the driver unexpectedly 
brought the horses to a halt directly in front of 
the house. 

It was the large black-and-white sign swing¬ 
ing from the gate-post, and plainly visible to 
them all by the rays of the lantern, at which 
they gazed in wide-eyed amazement. 

For it read: 

AT THE SIGN OF THE SKULL AND 

CROSS-BONES. 

A. PIRATE CHIEF—PROPRIETOR. 

And a white skull and cross-bones deco¬ 
rated the top. 


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 


HIDDEN TREASURE 

I T must be confessed that the five girls 
rather hung back as the Pirate pushed 
ajar the tipsy gate and beckoned for 
them to follow him up the dark narrow path. 

Not a ray of light shone from the windows 
of the house, although a long plume of smoke 
mounting from the chimney showed that the 
place was inhabited. 

A hop-toad went hopping across the path, 
and Marion, with a little scream, caught 
tightly hold of her brother’s arm, while the rest 
of the boys formed a body-guard for the other 
girls, and Mr. Carr led the way, close to the 
heels of the Pirate. It gave them all a hair-rais¬ 
ing feeling as the door swung open mysteri¬ 
ously at a rapped signal on its panels, although 
the minute Polly Wiggles saw the roaring fire 
blazing in the stone fireplace opposite, and no- 

291 


292 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

ticed the gleam of lanterns swinging from 
hooks about the long low room, she felt re¬ 
assured. 

She had a confused impression of several 
black-masked figures grouped about a tall 
man, who she supposed must be the Pirate 
Chief, for he was wearing an elaborate black- 
velvet suit profusely trimmed with gilt coins, 
and a red silk handkerchief was knotted about 
his head. 

He was the only one in the room unmasked, 
and as he swung about to face them, she had a 
haunting sense of familiarity, for something 
about the laughing dark eyes put her in mind 
of some one whom she knew—and knew well. 
Then, before she could put her half-formed 
thoughts into words, Donald made an im¬ 
petuous rush forward and flung himself en¬ 
thusiastically at the stranger. 

“Dad, oh. Dad!" he cried with a funny mix¬ 
ture of surprise and delight in his voice. 
“What are you doing here?” 

“Surprising you principally, old chap,” was 
the Pirate’s laughing response, while the 


HIDDEN TREASURE 


293 

Others looked on in speechless astonishment. 
“Let me introduce myself as the Pirate Chief, 
at your service. You didn’t expect to number 
a pirate among your friends, did you?” he 
added with a jolly twinkle as he turned to greet 
the children who were still mute from their 
surprise. “And while my pirate crew unmask, 
I want to get acquainted with every one. Bet I 
know you all by name.” 

He smiled straight at Polly Wiggles as he 
spoke, and she couldn’t keep from smiling 
back at this big man who was so much like 
Donald that he did not seem a stranger at all. 

“You’re Polly Wiggles. I know you by 
your curls,” he began; and then he went right 
about the group, calling each by name, so that 
in five minutes they all felt as if they had 
known him a lifetime. 

“But—,” stammered Jeannette with a swift 
glance about at the unmasking pirates, and 
then she stopped with bewilderment shown in 
every line of her face; for, over in the corner, 
laughing at her astonished expression, was 
Grandmother Carr, while her father and 


294 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

mother waved gayly at her from the seat by the 
side of the fireplace where they were cozily 
settled, enjoying the leaping flames and flick¬ 
ering shadows. Mrs. MacAllister and Aunt 
Elsie on an old couch covered with a bright 
Navajo blanket, surveyed the surprised chil¬ 
dren with mirthful eyes, while the silent pirate 
driver proved to be no one more ferocious 
than Mr. Burnett. 

Polly Wiggles hopped up and down on one 
foot with excitement, her cheeks flaming scar¬ 
let as she took in at a glance the big room dec¬ 
orated with crossed pirate flags and gay 
bouquets of fall flowers. “Somebody explain 
quickly please, before I burst with curiosity,” 
she begged as she impetuously caught hold of 
Alice and whirled her round and round until 
her ear-rings flew off and went bouncing 
across the floor. 

“Then sit down,” directed Mrs. MacAllister 
with a wave of her hand, and the mystified 
children obediently formed a semicircle of 
eager listeners before the fireplace and waited 
in breathless silence. 


HIDDEN TREASURE 


295 


The grown-ups thought what a pretty pic¬ 
ture they made, with the firelight gleaming on 
shining ear-rings and vivid bandannas, and 
heightening the color in each rosy face. 

“Gabriel’s eyes look as if they were popping 
from his head, Kitty’s mouth is wide open with 
astonishment, and I see a million questions 
dawning in Polly Wiggles’ dancing eyes, so I 
think myself that the time has come for ex¬ 
planations, and we’d better ’fess up,” Mrs. 
MacAllister began vivaciously with a side 
glance at her husband. “You see, Mr. Mac¬ 
Allister was greatly disappointed when busi¬ 
ness kept him in Europe all summer, after he’d 
made his plans to return in July. It seemed 
at first as if it would be Thanksgiving before 
he could get away, but he was most anxious to 
return in time for Donald’s birthday, if pos¬ 
sible-” 

“Birthday?” chorused the merry crowd with 
one accord, turning to stare at Donald in ac¬ 
cusing silence, where he looked as guilty as if 
a birthday were a state offense. “When?” 

“His birthday is to-morrow,” resumed Mrs. 



296 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

MacAllister with an amused glance about the 
group as she continued her tale. “Mr. Mac- 
Allister’s business was finished much quicker 
than he expected, and to his delight he found 
that he could reach home by Labor Day. He 
wrote me immediately, telling me to keep the 
news a complete surprise for Donald’s birth¬ 
day, and to concoct some scheme for a jollifica¬ 
tion and surprise party for you all. I didn’t 
know what to have, but you boys gave me the 
idea yourselves, one day in the early summer. 
You were talking about pirates, and how you 
loved mysteries, and I had a sudden brilliant 
idea that I thought would keep you guessing 
all summer. So Elsie and I put our heads to¬ 
gether and planned this pirate party, with 
Donald’s father to be the Pirate Chief whom 
you were all to meet.” 

Polly Wiggles sat bolt upright in her as¬ 
tonishment. “Oh, Aunt Elsie, to think you 
were in it all the time,” she exclaimed as she 
shook an accusing finger at her aunt. “How 
you fooled us. Did Mother know all about it, 
too?” 


HIDDEN TREASURE 


297 

“She didn’t know any of the details,” Aunt 
Elsie assured her quickly, “for we thought it 
would be far more interesting to have every 
one unprepared for the surprises. So we two 
were the only ones that knew what was going 
to happen. Of course Mrs. MacAllister told 
your mother about the party planned for La¬ 
bor Day, but she wouldn’t tell her another 
thing although she begged and begged.” 

“Yes, weren’t they mean?” broke in Mrs. 
Eaton plaintively. “I was just as thrilled and 
excited as you children over what was going to 
happen next. And Elsie kept going round 
with a tantalizing smile, and wouldn’t even 
give me a hint.” 

Gabriel glanced up quickly, a question hov¬ 
ering on his lips. “What about the curved 
knife?” he asked, looking at Mrs. MacAllister 
for an explanation. 

“That was a curio of my father’s which 
I knew Don had never seen,” she told 
him. “Sam hid in the shrubbery and threw it 
for me.” 

“And the scarecrow?” Donald added at 


298 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

once, as he recollected the cleverly-constructed 
dummy. 

“Elsie and I dressed the scarecrow,” his 
mother retorted promptly. “Didn’t we make 
a good job of it?” she put in with a mischiev¬ 
ous glance at her son. “We prepared the 
treasure-box, too. Sam and Mr. Burnett put 
the scarecrow in place, filled the box with 
stones and buried it, and planted the pirate 
flag. Of course all the complicated directions 
were put in to add to the fun. The picnic bas¬ 
kets at the Glen I prepared at home, and not 
even Elsie knew about them. Any more 
questions, youngsters?” 

Alice, who had been waiting expectantly, 
looked up alertly. “Who wrote the poetry, 
and who was the pirate on the black horse?” 
she inquired, anxious to have all the details of 
the mystery cleared up. 

“Elsie wrote the verses, and I was the pi¬ 
rate,” Mr. Burnett confessed as he poked the 
fire and added another log. “I hope I didn’t 
scare you. To tell the truth, I was longing to 
join the picnic party that day, for you all 


HIDDEN TREASURE 


299 


seemed to be having such a good time,” he ad¬ 
mitted honestly with a quick look at Aunt 
Elsie. 

“I wrote all my plans to Mr. MacAllister,” 
Donald’s mother continued, “and he made 
suggestions from time to time. Then I made 
the excuse of business matters calling me to 
New York, but of course I really went in to 
meet-” 

“—Dad, when he landed,” broke in Donald 
with an understanding grin. “And to think I 
never guessed at all. Do go on.” 

“Yes, he landed six days ago, and we re¬ 
mained in New York while you were visiting 
Gay. It gave us a splendid opportunity to com¬ 
plete our plans, and we made several motor 
trips up to this tumble-down house, which I 
have owned since my girlhood days. I had it 
cleaned and in readiness before I left, for I 
thought it a splendid out-of-the-way place for 
a pirate party. Now I think you understand 
everything. And, even if you may feel that 
your Pirate Chief is somewhat of a hoax, 
hasn’t it given you an exciting summer?” 



300 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“Oh, I don’t think it’s a hoax at all,” Gabriel 
protested with enthusiasm. “I think it’s been 
lots of fun, and you certainly kept us 
guessing.” 

“While I absolutely refuse to be called a 
hoax,” Mr. MacAllister put in swiftly as he 
strode up and down the room and frowned fe¬ 
rociously at the excited children, “and to prove 
my contention that I’m a really-truly pirate 
who has sailed across the sea, bringing booty 
for you, here is a shovel and pail for each of 
you doubters to use in your search for buried 
treasure. Now hurry—scoot.” He made a 
laughing gesture with his hands as he spoke, 
and the children scrambled up and made haste 
to obey. 

“Do we go outside?” inquired Polly Wig¬ 
gles with a shy glance at Mr. MacAllister as 
she skipped across the room to the door. 

“No, indeed. You do all your digging right 
here. You may go in any down-stairs room 
with the exception of the one to the right, 
where the door is closed.” 

“But how—?” began Polly Wiggles; but 


HIDDEN TREASURE 


301 

Mr. MacAllister only shook his head in an¬ 
swer to all questions, so the group scattered, 
exchanging amazed glances. 

“Come on in here,” suggested Donald, steer¬ 
ing Wiggles into the next room. “We certainly 
can’t dig up a wooden floor.” 

“Isn’t this fun? There are lots and lots of 
flower-pots in this room beyond,” cried Polly 
Wiggles as she popped her curly head through 
another doorway and admired the massed au¬ 
tumn leaves and bittersweet that entirely con¬ 
cealed the dingy wails. “Do you s’pose we dig 
up these ferns and vines?” 

She doubtfully surveyed a jardiniere filled 
with ivy as she spoke, while Donald poked cau¬ 
tiously among the branches of foliage. But a 
few gingerly digs revealed nothing more than 
roots and vines, and Donald looked much per¬ 
plexed. “I tell you what,” he suggested as he 
helped Wiggles re-knot the bandanna on her 
curls, “let’s hurry on to the back room.” 

They passed Gabriel, who was frantically 
digging in a wooden tub of salt, while Alice 
was investigating a pail of sawdust, though 


302 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

neither seemed to be having much success. But 
as they pushed open the half-closed door lead¬ 
ing to a tiny alcove-room, a big sand-box on the 
floor greeted their eyes, and their shovels were 
plying away briskly when Billy hurried in to 
join them, soon followed by the others. 

Ther'e were wooden knives, daggers, and 
arrows in the sand, and as Polly Wiggles filled 
her pail she wondered blankly what they were 
for. They searched till the sand refused to yield 
any more treasure, and then hastened back to 
pounce upon the Pirate Chief and bombard 
him with eager questions. 

A small hoop hung at one end of the room, 
and Mr. MacAllister quickly explained that 
they were to stand at a chalk mark on the floor 
and try to toss as many articles through the 
hoop as possible. “Arrows count five, knives 
ten, and daggers twenty,” he told them. 

“Girls are never any good at throwing,” 
Billy teased, but he proved to be mistaken, and 
was the first to applaud when Marion’s score 
proved to be highest. She flushed with embar¬ 
rassment at the praise she received, as they all 


HIDDEN TREASURE 


303 

admired the attractive prize, a green-enamel 
barrette; while Gabriel pranced about, the 
proud possessor of a fountain pen. 

“Isn’t a pirate party interesting?” gasped 
Polly Wiggles breathlessly, as she flew over to 
exhibit to her mother a gay red bag filled with 
dolls’ clothespins which had just been handed 
her. “What do you s’pose we’re going to do 
now? The wash?” 

Her astonishment rapidly increased as Aunt 
Elsie strung two clothes-lines down the long 
room, and laughingly shooed the boys in a 
flock over by one line, while the girls scurried 
to the other. 

“There are twelve pins in each bag,” she ex¬ 
plained as she produced twelve bandannas for 
the girls and twelve for the boys. “And this is 
a race to hang out the wash. Every handker¬ 
chief must be hung on the line and taken down 
again by each person in turn, with the boys 
against the girls. I will take the place of the 
sixth girl. Now begin.” 

As she spoke she whisked the handkerchiefs 
one by one on the line, and stabbed each in 


304 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

place with a tiny clothespin, and after one 
quick look Billy followed her example. But for 
all his haste Aunt Elsie had taken hers all down 
and Marion had hung two in place before he 
passed his wash to Donald. Marion and Don¬ 
ald proved evenly matched, while Jeannette 
and Allan finished at almost the same moment. 

“Do hurry,” urged Wiggles as Kitty nimbly 
started to work. “We’re even now, but Dick is 
like chain lightning.” 

“ ’Tisn’t fair, anyway,” Dick grumbled as he 
whisked his wash up with celerity and finished 
one handkerchief before Kitty. “Boys aren’t 
accustomed to hanging out dolls’ duds.” 

“Seems to me you did pretty well,” retorted 
Alice as she rapidly outdistanced Hugh and 
fairly flung the handkerchiefs at Wiggles, • 
while Gabriel, in his haste, scattered all his 
clothespins on the floor. Poor Gabriel! When 
he didn’t scatter clothespins, he dropped hand¬ 
kerchiefs, and between trying to take all the 
advice offered about “pinning them on tight,” 
and endeavoring to keep an eye on his rival, he 
grew so flustered that just as Polly Wiggles 


HIDDEN TREASURE 


305 

skipped down her line triumphantly, a winner 
for the girls, his handkerchiefs, clothespins, 
and all went down with unexpected sudden¬ 
ness as the line broke before his determined 
stabs. So each girl received a lollipop made 
into a grinning pirate face by gumdrop eyes, 
nose, and mouth, and the defeated boys tried to 
look unconcerned, although their mouths 
watered at the sight. 

Bang, bang, bang! 

Alice looked at Wiggles, and Wiggles 
turned a startled face toward her sister as a 
clatter and a clash from behind the closed door 
made them all jump. 

“It’s the Pirate’s dinner-bell,” explained Mr. 
MacAllister as Sam appeared in the doorway, 
banging away lustily on a tray. 

As the boys and girls flocked into the dining¬ 
room there was a babble of “Ohs” and “Ahs” 
of surprise at the sight that greeted their eyes, 
for a long picnic table was all in readiness 
for them. Shining black oilcloth covered the 
boards in place of a cloth, and white oilcloth 
skulls and cross-bones, which showed up in a 


3 o6 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

truly startling manner against the somber 
background, formed a grotesque border. From 
the ceiling hung a papier-mache skeleton head 
with a rosy light inside, but what took their 
eyes the most was the Pirate frigate, with black 
sails flying, that decorated the center of the 
table. From its decks red streamers trailed to 
each place and fastened to the favors, which 
were small cedar “treasure chests” overflow¬ 
ing with candies. 

“Do look at our pirate supper,” laughed 
Jeannette, clapping her hands as she eyed the 
pie-pan put before her, for the salad was 
molded into a grinning skull, while crossed 
chicken-legs formed the “bones.” Even the 
ice-cream was frozen into daggers, and ships, 
and pistols. 

Polly Wiggles looked up from the individ¬ 
ual birthday cake, with its flickering scarlet 
candle a-top, which she was admiring, to give 
Donald a severe frown. “You were a mean 
thing not to tell us that you were going to have 
a birthday,” she declared emphatically. “Oh, 
Don, do take pity on my curiosity and tell me 


HIDDEN TREASURE 


307 


what these streamers are for,” she begged as 
she held the scarlet ribbon up in her fingers. 

“Those are to pull, Curly Locks, and maybe, 
like Jack Horner, you’ll find a plum at the 
other end,” Mr. MacAllister answered before 
his son had a chance to reply. 

Polly Wiggles gave a jerk to the streamer 
she held, and looked with much astonishment 
at the card fastened to the other end. Then, 
while the others paused in their chatter to 
listen, she read aloud the following rhyme: 

“Tucked within a cardboard box, 
Something’s hid for Curly Locks.” 

With an impetuous movement she jumped 
to her feet, but Jet put out a restraining hand. 

“Oh, listen,” she said. “Doesn’t this sound 
thrilling? 

“Up the stairs and to your right, 

There’s your treasure in plain sight.” 

“It’s no more thrilling than mine,” Alice an¬ 
nounced with a glance at the card in her hand. 

“High up and on the mantel-shelf, 

You’ll find a package for yourself.” 


3 o8 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

“Listen to this,” cried Kitty, waving her 
card to attract attention. 

“Search beneath a rug or mat. 

Something’s there for Kitty-Cat,” 

she read aloud with a blissful sigh. “Let’s hear 
yours, Marion.” 

“Mine says: 

“Where the Pirate mascot flies. 

There your hidden treasure lies,” 

Marion told them. “Now it’s your turn, Don.” 

“Has any one seen an armchair about?” 
Donald inquired as he looked up from his slip. 

“Don’t forget the old armchair; 

If you look, there’s something there,” 

he read aloud as he pocketed his card. 

“Listen to mine,” Billy cried, waving a hand 
for silence. 

“Look upon the window sill. 

There’s a parcel all for Bill,” 

he declaimed with a sweeping survey of the 


HIDDEN TREASURE 


309 


room. ‘‘Fm afraid it will take me all night, for 
the house seems to be full of windows.’^ 

‘‘And closets, too,” added Allan as the others 
waited impatiently to hear his rhyme. 

‘‘In a closet Vay up high, 

Hidden treasure you will spy,’’ 

he went on hastily as Billy gave him a sly 
pinch. 

Dick laid down his spoon with reluctance. 

“Where you hear a tick-tock-tick. 

You will find a gift for Dick,” 

he read quickly, anxious to return to his melt¬ 
ing cream. 

“Fm going to start my search in the pantry,” 
Hugh drawled, “for my directions say, 

“Hid within a bowl of blue. 

Something’s tucked away for Hugh.” 

Gabriel bobbed to his feet like a jack-in- 
the-box. 

“In the hall you’d better stay, 

Search, and find a gift for Gay,” 


310 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

he burst out rapidly. “Oh, don’t let’s waste any 
more time. Hurry up!” And before the others 
had done more than push back their chairs, he 
was up the stairs in a flash. 

So while the grown-ups grouped themselves 
about the crackling fire, eleven excited chil¬ 
dren scampered about the old house, rummag¬ 
ing in closets, peering in dusky corners, and 
poking inquisitive noses in every nook and 
spot that might conceal hidden treasure. Such 
a clatter of tongues and babble of excited com¬ 
ments as floated down the stairway! 

Grandmother Carr thought that the old farm 
had probably never seen a gayer sight or 
housed a more rollicking crowd of youngsters 
in all its bygone years. The cracked looking- 
glass in the corner undoubtedly had reflected 
many a Virginia reel and quilting-party in 
olden days, but it certainly had never mirrored 
any more picturesque sight than the eleven 
small pirates of assorted sizes who whisked 
past its shining surface that evening, flitting 
up and down the stairs as the merry treasure- 
search began. 


HIDDEN TREASURE 


311 

Dick made a bee-line for the old grandfa¬ 
ther’s clock in the corner, and, opening its bat¬ 
tered case, peered inside. 

“Nary a thing,” he announced disconso¬ 
lately as he watched Alice, who had clambered 
on a stool to examine the mantel-piece over the 
fire. 

“I’m not a bit luckier,” she sighed as she 
jumped down. “Well, come along, Dick. I’m 
going in search of mantels, and mantels usu¬ 
ally have clocks upon them.” 

They hurried off together, and Mrs. MacAl- 
lister gave a girlish laugh as she turned an 
amused face toward Mrs. Eaton. 

“Do look at Billy,” she whispered. “He’s 
working his way to each window-sill in turn, 
but it will take him a long time, for his treas¬ 
ure is up-stairs.” 

“Found anything, Woggsie?” called Mr. 
Burnett as Polly Wiggles skipped by, her 
cheeks as scarlet as her sash with excitement. 

“Not a thing. But Jet just found a darling 
silver bracelet on top of an old wardrobe, 
and—” She paused as an ecstatic squeal 



312 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

drifted down from the upper hall. “There! 
Kitty’s discovered something, and I’m going 
right up to see what it is,” she finished hastily, 
and with a parting wave of her hand she flew 
up the stairs on dancing feet. They heard her 
in the hall above, uttering exclamations of de¬ 
light over a blue-enamel locket which Kitty 
had spied under a rag rug. 

“See the bully knife I’ve found,” Allan 
crowed as he slid down the banisters in his 
haste to exhibit his prize. “It was in a little cup¬ 
board in the back bedroom.” 

“How about the others?” questioned Mrs. 
Eaton. “Are they having any luck?” 

“Marion found a green bead bag,” he was 
starting, when Marion, dangling the bag in 
question, skipped down the stairs, followed by 
Alice, who was proudly waving a blue feather 
fan. 

“Billy’s just found a knife like Allan’s,” 
they chorused. “Where’s Hugh?” 

“Here I am.” And Hugh appeared at his 
sister’s side with an attractive pair of cuff-links 
clutched in his hand. “I hunted through every 


HIDDEN TREASURE 


313 

bowl in the pantry and finally found these in a 
wash-bowl up-stairs,” he announced. Then 
raising his voice, he called, “Say, haven’t you 
slow-pokes found your treasure yet?” 

In answer to his hail, Dick and Donald 
came racing down the stairs, holding up belt- 
buckles for them to see. Donald’s hair was on 
end, and Dick had lost his bandanna, but both 
were bursting with amusement, and Donald 
hastened to explain. 

“You should see Gay,” he chuckled with a 
laughing glance at his mother. “He’s searched 
the hall with a fine-tooth comb, and hasn’t 
found a thing yet. Do come up and watch the 
fun.” 

At the head of the stairs Polly Wiggles 
danced out to meet them, triumphantly flour¬ 
ishing a pink-coral bracelet. She looked decid¬ 
edly the worse for her treasure-hunt, for her 
bandanna had slid to the back of her tumbled 
curls and her necktie was under one ear, but 
her glowing face was a-sparkle with fun. 

“I looked and looked,” she told them breath¬ 
lessly, “and at last I found this little box, tied 


314 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

to the knob of the front-room door.” She 
paused with a giggle to survey Gabriel, who, 
precariously perched on a rickety chair, was 
scanning the tops of the hall pictures. 

“I hope you’ll bring me luck,” he exclaimed 
as the chair creaked warningly. He slipped his 
hand back of a frame as he spoke and joyfully 
pulled into view a small package which had 
been tied to the picture-wire. 

“Hurrah,” he cried, forgetting his tottery 
perch and waving his prize above his head. 
It was too much for the old chair. With a 
squeal of protesting joints, it collapsed in a 
heap on the floor, while Gabriel landed in the 
midst of the wreckage, looking far more as¬ 
tonished than hurt. 

“Evidently you think it’s time to ‘break up’ 
the party,” Mr. MacAllister laughed, “and I 
think so, too. Do you youngsters realize the 
hour?” 

“It’s time to go home, I know that,” Dr. 
Eaton said, consulting his watch, and shooing 
the laughing crowd down-stairs and into 
sweaters and coats. 


HIDDEN TREASURE 


315 

The fire was burning low in the fireplace 
as the happy children waved final good-nights 
and raced down the path to the hay-wagon. 

Polly Wiggles and Jeannette were the last 
to clamber in, for Aunt Elsie detained her 
nieces for an instant before Mr. Burnett as¬ 
sisted her up beside him on the driver’s seat. 
Evidently it was something pleasant she whis¬ 
pered to them, for as they came bouncing up 
on the hay to snuggle down beside the rest, 
Jeannette’s face was one broad smile, and 
Polly Wiggles’ dimples were in full evidence. 

The others looked at them curiously as they 
smothered sleepy yawns. 

“Any one would think that the fun was yet 
to come. What did Aunt Elsie tell you that 
makes you grin like Cheshire cats?’’ asked 
Billy in a wheedling tone. “Is there to be an¬ 
other party in the near future?’’ 

“Oh, it’s lots nicer than a party, and Aunt 
Elsie said we could tell you all,” Jeannette said 
rapidly while the girls popped up curious 
heads. 

“You don’t mean—” began Alice with shin- 


3i6 POLLY WIGGLES AND SOME OTHERS 

ing eyes, but never finished her sentence, be¬ 
cause Polly Wiggles could not wait another 
moment to tell the news. 

“Yes, I do mean that it’s a wedding,” she an¬ 
nounced impressively, her very curls dancing 
with excitement. “We’re going to have a really- 
truly wedding in the family, for Aunt Elsie 
and Mr. Burnett are engaged, and he’s going 
to be our new uncle.” 

“And,” continued Jeannette with an ecstatic 
smile, “every single one of you is to be invited.” 

Donald sat up with a jerk. “Boys, too?” he 
asked anxiously. 

Polly Wiggles nodded like a Chinese man¬ 
darin. “Boys, too,” she assured him happily. 
“And do you wonder we’re excited? For Jet 
and I are to be flower girls.” 

Billy with a joyous whoop struck up “Here 
Comes the Bride,” in which the others joined 
with a will. 

Polly Wiggles looked up in the sky where a 
bright star twinkled and shone. 

“It looks ’xactly like the diamond in Aunt 
Elsie’s engagement ring,” she thought sleep- 


HIDDEN TREASURE 317 

ily. And with her thoughts a funny jumble of 
pirates and parties, wedding cake and flower- 
girl dresses, she roused with a start to find the 
hay-wagon stopping at her own white gate. 


THE END 









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